A Medjai in Middle Earth
by LadyDeb1970
Summary: Now Complete: Modern AU: A strange set of ruins found by Jonathan catapults Ardeth into Middle Earth, and finds him fighting alongside Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli at the Battle of Helm's Deep.
1. Prologue: A Stranger in a Strange Land

This is the first story in my modern Mummy series. As the title implies, it puts the events of the Mummy into a modern context. The timeline works like this: the first Mummy movie took place in 1994, and the second in 1999. I know, the movies were seven years apart, but remember, this is alternate universe.  
  
The modern equivalent of my story, 'The Forever Friends,' takes place in 1999, and this first story picks up in 2001, two years after Ardeth and Celia were married. There will be at least three more stories in this series, all of which will be crossovers. It should also be noted that this is movie-verse of 'The Two Towers.' The sequel to 'A Med-jai in Middle Earth' is called 'The Med-jai Legacy,' and as the name implies, it's a crossover between 'The Mummy' and 'Poltergeist: The Legacy.' The third story, 'Love's Echo,' is a crossover with 'Stargate SG-1,' and the untitled finale is a crossover with 'X-Men: Evolution.' It was inspired by the Apocalypse storyline in the most recent (and hopefully not final) season.  
  
One last note. . .I often work on several stories at once. So, I've not stopped working on 'The Learning Curve.' More IS coming of that. That being said, feedback is always welcome; however, flames will be fed to the nearest Balrog I can find. I'm not the most patient of women these days.  
  
A Med-jai in Middle Earth  
  
Prologue  
  
The rain was coming down hard now, and he was hard pressed to keep his footing. He blinked water back from his eyes. Still, he fought on. He was shivering and soaking wet, and still, he fought on. The wound in his abdomen was paining him, and still, he fought on. He could not lay down his weapons. If he stopped fighting, if he gave way to the cold, the pain, and the exhaustion, his new friends would fall to the evil sweeping over their world.  
  
And that could not be permitted. He did not come all this way to simply give up now. There were too many times when he failed. If they failed today, this entire world would be plunged into darkness, and, he feared, the same would happen to his own. He knew not what the connection was between this world and his own, aside from that strange portal. He knew only that he could not simply let evil triumph.  
  
Could this have been avoided? He didn't see how. Among the defenders of Helms Deep, there were the people of this realm, two kings, a warrior, a prince of his people, and a chieftain from another. . .place. Perhaps if Theoden took Gandalf's advice and kept his people in their city, none of this would have been necessary. And perhaps Theoden was right, but the young man now defending the fortress was a veteran of too many battles to believe that.  
  
There was no escape, and there was no mercy. The foe which they fought didn't recognize matters such as mercy. They were not human, these Urk-hai Aragorn spoke of. They were far worse than their orc-predecessors. What had Aragorn told Theoden? They were an army bred for one purpose. . .the extermination of all humanity. The young man with the rain-soaked black hair fought such enemies before. And always, the price of victory was dear.  
  
But the price of failure was even dearer. As dear as the price of victory always was, the price of failure was beyond dear. This was not his world. . .these were not his people, but that mattered little. He could not let these people die. Not lovely Eowyn, or noble Aragorn. Not wise Gandalf or brave Legolas. Not Gimli, who could make them all laugh, or even Theoden. That man now called out to Aragorn, calling him back. The young man saw the exiled king nod his head once in acknowledgment, then the forces began pulling back.  
  
He was wet, cold, in pain and exhausted. And still he fought on. There was nothing else he could do. He was wet. . .but so was everyone else who fought on this day. He was cold. . .as was everyone else. In pain? At least he was still alive. He fought his way through pain in the past. He could do so again. He would do so, as many times as it was necessary. Exhausted? How long was it since Aragorn slept? Since any of them slept?  
  
Ardeth Bey, son of Suleiman and Altair, husband of Celia, father of Miranda and Andreas, chieftain of the Med-jai, would continue to fight. For his new friends. . .for this strange world that was so like his own in some ways. But at the same time, he couldn't help but think, in a small corner of his mind where Celia and the others were kept during this time, about what led him to this point. . .to this desolate mountain fortress in a world not his own.  
  
It began on a day in late August. It began with old friends once more exploring ruins that were more than they seemed. And it was anyone's guess how it would end. 


	2. Sweet Home Coming

First, a quick author's note: you'll notice that Ardeth isn't in ME yet. That's next chapter. Since this is the beginning of a new series, I need to lay some groundwork for the next few stories. Please bear with me, there is a method to my madness, and everything will become clear.  
  
Secondly, in this chapter, reference is made to Celia's previous employers, the Legacy. This is part of the groundwork to the sequel to this story, 'The Med-jai Legacy.' The Legacy, and the members of San Francisco House, belong to Trilogy and MGM.  
  
Thirdly, events are referred to in this chapter. . .they belong with stories that haven't been written, but are in the planning stage. The beginning of Jonathan and Aleta's love story will be chronicled in 'Priorities,' and the resurrection of Beni Gabor will explained in detail in the sequel to 'Priorities,' which is entitled, 'The Lesser Evil.' And yes, Imhotep and Rick DO manage to work together to save Ardeth and Celia, and they do it without killing each other in the process.  
  
That said, on with the reviews:  
  
Sailor Elf: I should have known you would be the first in line. If memory serves, you're also a LOTR fan. Hope you enjoy this, especially once Ardeth gets to ME, and he meets Gimli, Legolas, Aragorn, and Gandalf.  
  
Saiyuki 123: I hope I spelled your name right. . .I'm afraid our printer isn't working properly, which meant I couldn't print out the reviews as I usually do. Welcome aboard, always glad to see a new face.  
  
Part One  
  
August 28, 2001 the Med-jai city of Tiri, Egypt  
  
They rode slowly into the city, a procession of dirty, exhausted men with only two things on their minds. Turning the prisoner over to the interrogators, then going home to their women. At the head of the column rode a young man in his very early thirties. Though he, too, was exhausted, his back was straight and his head was held high. His expression was impassive, as was proper for the Med-jai chieftain.  
  
But his dark eyes sought out a single figure among the Asu tribe who turned out to welcome the warriors home. A small, slender figure who stood a bit apart from the others, her head uncovered. One tiny figure stood resolutely at her side, while another tiny form was cradled against her body. Seeing those three beloved people, Ardeth Bey allowed himself to relax. His wife was safe, his children were well. It was a good homecoming.  
  
And once everything was dealt with properly, he could hold his children, and kiss his wife. However, first, there were other things to be done. They stopped at the square, where the Med-jai interrogators waited. They numbered five, and each pair of eyes were obsidian cold. By Med-jai law, the chieftain could not take part in the interrogations. He could only observe. But that task would wait until the previous day. Tonight, they would celebrate the successful return home with only a few injuries, and no dead. As soon as his boots touched the ground, and the somewhat battered, still-cursing prisoner was taken by the interrogators, Ardeth Bey was at last free to seek out his wife.  
  
As usual, however, she found him. Or, more appropriately, their young daughter found him. She darted through the throngs of people. And just behind her, always keeping an eye on the fearless child, was her mother, along with two other welcome people. The little girl threw herself into Ardeth's arms, joyfully squealing, "Papa! Papa, you're home!" Ardeth spun her around, inhaling the shampoo his wife used for both their daughter and herself.  
  
"Aywa, my little Miranda, I am home," he whispered. Miranda hugged him again, hard, and pulled back a little to look at him. It was a mannerism she picked up from her mother. Her mother, who even now was approaching, with their thirteen month old son in her arms. She looked tired. Tired, but happy. She didn't show her emotions readily in public. . .not the wife of the chieftain, a proper Med-jai queen. But her eyes said everything that needed to be said.  
  
Ardeth set Miranda on the ground, even as his youngest sister Aleta took Andreas from the arms of her sister-in-law. The baby fussed a little, but quieted down as he always did when Aunt Aleta held him. Ardeth looked away from his sister to his wife, and merely held his hand out to her. Cecelia Anne Ferguson Bey. His wife, his confidante, the mother of his children. . . his Isis, his Astarte. His greatest source of joy, and sometimes, his greatest source of exasperation. She was in his arms, and he felt complete once more. Ardeth held on for dear life, burying his face in her curly dark hair.  
  
"Welcome home, love. I am so glad you're safe," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his waist. Ardeth didn't answer. The moment his boots touched the ground, he was relieved of responsibility. Until the following morning, when the interrogation began, he was just another warrior, returning home to his family. He wanted to kiss his wife, take a bath, and eat, not necessarily in that order.  
  
Actually, the bath would probably come first, as Ardeth knew he smelled of dust and sand and manure. A slight cough removed Ardeth's attention from his wife, and he looked up to find his brother-in-law, Jonathan Carnahan, smiling at him brightly. The smile was what he noticed first. And secondly, there was something odd in Jonathan's blue eyes. Something that looked almost haunted. And that something had Ardeth, in turn, worried.  
  
"Good to have you home, Ardeth old boy. Aleta and I have something to tell you," Jonathan said cheerfully. A bit too cheerfully, a little too brightly. However, he looked at his youngest sister, who still held Andreas. She smiled serenely, and Jonathan continued, "From what I've heard, we'll be leaving for Hamunaptra in a few months. Rather appropriate, to make that the site of another new beginning."  
  
Another new beginning? Ardeth looked at his wife, who just smiled wryly. However, it was Aleta who explained, blushing, "My husband is trying to tell you, in his ever so subtle way, that I am with child once more, Ardeth." New beginnings. Of course. His wife released him, and Ardeth enveloped both his son and his sister in a gentle embrace. Aleta returned it, adding, "But I believe you require a washing. Even Andreas thinks so, look at him wrinkle his little nose. Shall we go?"  
  
Ardeth rolled his eyes, though he knew that his sister was right. Besides, he should have remembered that she became much more vocal about her likes and dislikes when she was pregnant. She did the same thing while she was carrying her son Terrence. However, he merely inclined his head, and Aleta and Jonathan led them back toward the house Ardeth shared with his wife and children. Ardeth paused just long enough to pick up Miranda, and put his arm around his wife, then followed.  
  
As they walked, Ardeth listened with half an ear to Miranda's chattering. She was full of stories, just like always, but the walk home also informed Ardeth that his wife was worried about something. It wasn't related to the children. Miranda was quite well, and Andreas was growing by leaps and bounds. His youngest nephew, Terrence Carnahan, was with the queen mother Altair, along with his sister Acacia's children.  
  
All of the children were fine. In fact, Miranda giggled as Celia related a story that happened while Ardeth and the Asu warriors were tracking desert bandits. It seemed that Ardeth's ancient enemy, Imhotep, who lived among the Med-jai during the last two years, was becoming something of a babysitter for the Bey children. Jonathan didn't trust him with Terrence, but there was a good reason for that.  
  
Imhotep, for reasons that weren't entirely clear to Ardeth (and probably not to the amused storyteller either), decided that he would change Andreas' wet diaper. He saw Celia do it countless times. How hard could it be? However, there was something Imhotep never noticed. Celia always waited to make sure her son was finished with his business, before she changed his diaper. This time, Andreas wasn't, and he squirted Imhotep in the face.  
  
Ardeth nearly doubled over laughing, even as he cringed in sympathy. He was on the receiving end of his son's squirts in the past. Celia added, her shoulders trembling with barely-suppressed laughter, "Imhotep picked up the nearest towel, wiped his face, then pointed his finger at Andreas and said, 'you are just like your father!' Andreas just laughed at him. He thought it was funny."  
  
"Yes, well, how on earth did he get Andreas being just like Ardeth? I never heard any stories about Ardeth doing something like that to his father. . .wait. Did Suleiman even change any of his children's diapers?" Jonathan asked. Ardeth couldn't answer. . .he was trying to choke back his own laughter. Since his sister was walking in front of him, with Andreas in his arms, Ardeth contented himself with smiling broadly at his little boy. Andreas babbled happily at him, evidently realizing that his papa was quite pleased with him. Ardeth wished he could have seen Imhotep's expression.  
  
"C'mon, Jon, think about it a minute. That would be like Imhotep telling Alex that he was just like Rick after Alex pulled one of his pranks," Celia observed, still snuggled quite happily under Ardeth's arm. It was not quite the same situation, and she knew it. However, Jonathan evidently figured out what she meant, for he turned a rather interesting shade of pink. Ardeth didn't think it was a particularly appealing color on his brother-in-law, and so he chose not to embarrass Jonathan further.  
  
"Speaking of pranks, where are our sister and her new husband?" Ardeth asked instead, directing the conversation away from Jonathan. Acacia was newly-married to her third husband, and Ardeth was praying that unlike her second husband, this man was worthy of her. O'Connell would have, of course, said otherwise, but Ardeth was willing to trust Acacia's judgment. The women of his family had very good judgment.  
  
Celia cleared her throat, then looked at Miranda pointedly. It was a measure of just how tired Ardeth really was that it took him several seconds to figure out what his wife meant. When he did figure it out, he turned bright red with embarrassment. Not at the answer to the question (after all, he remembered what things were like, especially when he and Celia were newly married), but at the fact that he was so slow on the uptake, as O'Connell would have said. And that reminded him of something else. . .  
  
"Where are O'Connell and Evelyn? I thought O'Connell told me that he would arrive in Tiri this week," Ardeth asked, once more diverting the topic. Celia snickered, and Ardeth looked at his wife. He didn't like the way this sounded. While his wife and chosen brother got along most of the time now, ever so often, Celia would become contrary, just to irritate O'Connell. Usually, when Ardeth wasn't around to mediate.  
  
"Well. . .they *were* here. Their belongings still are, but Rick and Evy kinda left Alex and Nefertiri with us while they went out. Or, more appropriately, they left the kids with Altair. The last I saw, Alex and Darius were playing computer games and Altair was playing with Nefertiri. I was too busy trying not to blush after hearing what those two have planned," Celia answered. She paused, peered at him through lowered lashes, then added with a mischievous smile, "Whaaaaaat? You thought Rick and I were arguing again?"  
  
The thought did cross his mind, actually. More than once. He knew his wife, after all, and knew how much she enjoyed irritating the other American. Celia continued, "No, I've been very good while you're gone. . .mainly because Beni was having entirely too much fun taunting Rick. You know how those two are. . .you would think that being dead for seven years would have made Beni a little smarter, but he's still getting his kicks by tormenting Rick."  
  
"Yes, well, being dead for three thousand years didn't exactly do much for Imhotep's intelligence, up until a few years ago," Jonathan pointed out. It was a measure of just how strange Ardeth's life was that he wasn't even fazed by the conversation. He spent his entire adult life, guarding against Imhotep's rising. . .saw him rise twice, and helped to put him back in his grave both times. Then some fools in a sister organization to the Med-jai decided to resurrect him, using the host body of an innocent Dutch businessman.  
  
Oddly, with that resurrection, he began seeking redemption. . .atonement. . .whatever word you chose to use. Perhaps it was the penance he was forced to serve in the Underworld, or being reborn in a more innocent body. Ardeth didn't know. But those were Imhotep's contributions. Then there was Anck-su-namun, once a reviled name among the Med-jai. . .now, she was a protective ghost who turned the tide of battle in the favor of the Med-jai more than once. And most recently, Beni Gabor joined that strange little trinity of unexpected allies.  
  
Many years ago, Beni died while stealing treasure from Hamunaptra, after serving as Imhotep's servant during his first rising. Nearly two years earlier, when Celia was five months pregnant with Andreas, both she and Ardeth were captured by the resurrected Lock-nah and his second in command, Nizam Toth. During the three days that followed, Ardeth repeatedly attracted the attention of his two long-time enemies, to keep them away from Celia.  
  
It nearly cost him his life. It would have cost him his life, if Rick O'Connell and Imhotep hadn't joined forces (or rather, if Anck hadn't pushed them into joining forces) to rescue them. She didn't stop there, either. Next, the concubine's ghost fused her otherworldly gifts with Imhotep's own magic, to return Beni Gabor to life. Ardeth didn't know how they did it, nor did he want to know how. There were some questions best left unanswered.  
  
Beni began his own redemption in Hamunaptra, as his re-animated skeleton protected Miranda. But like Anck-su-namun and Imhotep, he was given further chances to redeem himself. . .chances he took eagerly. Between the four of them, they successfully rescued both the chieftain and his wife. However, in the end, it was again Anck-su-namun who actually saved Ardeth's life.  
  
According to O'Connell and Celia, Anck fell on her knees and humbled herself before the gods of Egypt and mortals alike, begging Seti's forgiveness. . .humbling herself so he would save Ardeth's life, the life of Seti's distant descendent. After three thousand years, the circle was finally closing. Imhotep accepted once and for all that it was Meela who betrayed him in Ahm Shere, rather than Anck. And finally, there was Seti, who accepted the apology and in turn, asked the forgiveness of Anck-su- namun, for driving her to that point. Indeed, he asked the woman who would have been his wife, 'Was I so very hard to love?'  
  
"Earth to Ardeth, where did you go, old boy?" Jonathan asked, breaking into Ardeth's reverie. The chieftain blinked in surprise, then blinked again when he realized they were home. His home. Not his tent, not his bedroll, but his home. Jonathan continued, "Well, then, we'll be off. Have to pick up Terrence, and make sure Alex and Darius are staying out of trouble, and all that. We'll see you at the celebration tonight."  
  
Ardeth nodded as Aleta eased the now-sleeping Andreas into Celia's arms, then the chieftain embraced his youngest sister. She kissed his cheek, then whispered into his hair, "It is good to have you home. Celia doesn't smile as often or as brightly when you are not here." Ardeth smiled at that, hugged his sister again, then released her. Aleta added severely, sounding like the healer she was, "And do not forget to bathe!"  
  
She smiled and took her husband's hand, leading him away. Ardeth looked at his wife ruefully, saying, "I believe I have been told, my wife. Shall we go?" Celia nodded, pushing the front door open. Like all houses in the Med-jai city, the doors were left unlocked. Only the Med-jai knew where Tiri was located, and any Med-jai who stole from a Med-jai family could expect harsh consequences. That went without saying. They were a people who cherished life, yes. . .but the need for trust among neighbors and warriors was also understood. It simply wasn't worth the consequences to steal.  
  
"Let me put the children down for a nap. . .no pouting, Miranda Christabel. . .and I'll run you a bath. We can talk while you're washing," Celia answered. Ardeth smiled at that. Perhaps he could convince her to do more than talk. A warrior could hope, after all. Celia blushed and carried Andreas into the nursery, murmuring something naughty under her breath. Ardeth sighed and sank into a chair. It was so good to be home!  
  
. . .  
  
It was so good to have her husband home. Celia Bey sighed softly as she carried her son into the nursery, gently placing him in his crib. Miranda was in her big girl bed, and now it was her baby brother's turn. Andreas sighed once in his sleep when he was settled in his own crib, and Celia smiled, caressing a lock of the silky black hair. Imhotep was right about one thing. Even at thirteen months, Andreas was already a lot like his father. And he was very much Papa's boy. Her little boy's brown eyes always lit up when he saw his father.  
  
"You're glad Papa is home, aren't you, little one? He can't spend as much time with you as he would like, with you or with your sister. But he loves you, so very much, and I don't want you to ever forget that. He would die for you. . .for any of us. And he's willing to live for us, too, and sometimes, that is so much harder to do," Celia whispered. Andreas mumbled something in his own language and rolled to one side, and his mother just smiled.  
  
"Sleep well, my sweet baby boy. You're too little to object to it now, but there will come a time, Andreas, when you'll object to being called a baby. Hopefully, by that time, we'll have a little brother or a little sister for you," she added, and reached over to turn on the battery- operated lullaby machine that was a gift from Evy before Andreas was born. Celia played it so often in those last weeks before Andreas made his rather dramatic entrance, it even now lulled her son to sleep. And when he was already asleep, it was a source of comfort.  
  
The lullaby played, but Celia didn't leave her post. She was hoping that if she remained in here, and waited long enough, Ardeth would fall asleep. She could go upstairs and run his bath, then come down and wake him when the water was the right temperature. That would also give her the time she needed to think about what she had to tell him. Homecomings were supposed to be a time of joy. . .not times of worry, but that was the price of being the chieftain.  
  
Once she was satisfied that Andreas was settled, Celia went to her daughter's room, just off the nursery to check on Miranda. The little girl was either napping, or doing a very credible job of pretending to be napping. Celia carefully adjusted the sheet over her daughter's body, and Miranda just sighed, but didn't stir. Good enough. The mother gave the child's hair a light caress, then she returned to the living room.  
  
Ardeth looked up as she returned. Damn. So much for having time to run the bath. A few minutes later, and maybe it would have different. A definite possibility, with the way Ardeth was slumped in the chair. She held out her hand to him, saying softly, "C'mon, love. Let's get you out of those filthy clothes, and into a nice, relaxing bath. I'll wash your hair." Ardeth took her hand with a tired smile and pushed himself out of the chair.  
  
They didn't talk as they headed into the bathroom. Instead, Ardeth sat down on the floor while Celia knelt in front of the bathtub. Things were different from Hamunaptra. Here in Tiri, they had more luxuries. Celia wouldn't have gone so far as to say they lived like kings, but their house was comfortable enough, and they had modern conveniences. Hell, Ardeth even had a cell phone, which he carried in a specially sewn pocket in his robes. It was set on a buzzer, so the sound didn't startle his horse.  
  
The Med-jai would forever be caught between the ancient world and the modern one. To best carry out their ancient duty, they had to keep some of their old ways. But both Ardeth and his late father, Suleiman, saw the wisdom in using modern technology. Thus, the Med-jai of 2001 were equipped with cell phones, laptop computers, and desktop computers. While Imhotep was no longer a threat, the Med-jai were still sworn to protect the world from evil. They used satellite imagery to ensure that Khaldun didn't rise once more, and to protect the world from the evil that remained at Ahm Shere.  
  
But at the same time, they kept their camels and their horses, their hawks and their falcons. This was also the doing of Ardeth and his father. Computers could break down, along with most other forms of modern technology. Besides, Ardeth didn't particularly like cars. Probably for the same reason he didn't like flying. Too many bad experiences with the O'Connell family and modern forms of transportation.  
  
It was because of possible computer crashes that Ardeth continued to maintain the physical files handed down from his father, and briefly, his brother. That, and the fact that sand could do terrible things to a computer's hard drive. Celia wished that her former employers in the Legacy took a few lessons from the Med-jai. Though books remained an important staple for Legacy researchers, it was Celia's considered opinion that the Legacy relied too much on technology. It wasn't this factor that led to the fall of Cairo House, again, but it didn't hurt.  
  
"What troubles you, my wife?" Ardeth asked in Arabic. Celia smiled to herself, without any real humor. She didn't ask how he knew something was on her mind. Instead, she focused on her task at hand. Namely, taking care of her husband. Her Legacy counterparts would have laughed at her, she was sure, dismissed her as playing the submissive little wife. But she didn't care. She was married to Ardeth Bey, and she knew the truth.  
  
At last, she replied, "Take off those clothes and get in the bath, then we'll talk. I'll need time to think about how to explain what's happened." She glanced over her shoulder as she spoke, and saw a mischievous light dawn in Ardeth's dark eyes. Celia added, laughing softly, "Get your mind out of the gutter, Ardeth, there will be time enough for that later. Assuming you're still awake by then, and I think that's questionable."  
  
She turned her head away, then ducked, so she could enjoy the spectacle of watching her husband undress. Damn, he was so beautiful. He sometimes took her breath away, with his kisses, with his touch, with his simple act of being. After just a few moments, the last garment was shed and Ardeth walked past Celia to gracefully slide into the tub. He groaned softly as the warm water immediately began working on his tight muscles.  
  
"Better?" she asked sympathetically, and Ardeth nodded with a soft sigh. Her heart turned over. He looked so tired. Unfortunately, she would add to his burden. But Celia knew better than to try to 'protect' him. It didn't work, and he only became angry at such attempts. They didn't have to talk about it right away. For now, she could just take care of him. Celia asked softly, "Do you want to wash yourself, or will you allow me to take care of you?"  
  
"Tell me what troubles you," Ardeth replied as he placed a bar of soap in her hands. The young queen rolled her eyes, but dipped the bar in the warm water. She should have known he would expect a trade-off. And she knew that in his eyes, it was a trade off. He would let her take care of him, if she would unburden herself. To that end, Celia lathered a washcloth with the wet bar, then began running the washcloth up and down her husband's arm.  
  
At the same time, she explained, "There are two things. First, there are new ruins you need to know about. While you were gone, and after the O'Connells first arrived, Jonathan took Darius and Alex out on an expedition. You know the caves about two miles outside of the city, the caves where the old legends say that Shakir Bey first saw Tiri?" Ardeth nodded and Celia continued, "The ruins were found *inside* the cave."  
  
She paused, dunking the now soapy washcloth into the water, then squeezed the excess out over Ardeth's arm to rinse away the soap. Ardeth washed away the rest of the soap by dipping his arm into the water, then Celia rose to her feet a bit creakily. Rather than reach across the tub, she would move to the other side of the tub. It would be better for her knees, for one thing, and it would be less of a strain on her back. Two years among the Med-jai taught her that it was foolish to suffer when it wasn't necessary.  
  
Once she was safely perched on the rim of the tub on the other side, Celia continued with her work and her story, "I haven't seen the ruins myself, but Alex and Darius described them to me. They were quite excited, and rightfully so. . .they'd never seen ruins like this before, much less inside a cave. That isn't what troubles me. Ever since he got back, Jonathan's had this haunted look in his eyes, Ardeth. Those ruins. . .something about those ruins frightened him, and you know Jon isn't easily frightened."  
  
"La," came her husband's thoughtful response, "he is not. He has always done what needed to be done, and since his marriage to my sister, that determination has become even stronger. Very well. I shall speak to Jonathan tomorrow, and see what he can tell me about these ruins that frighten him so. I will admit, they have me concerned as well. No one has been in those caves for thousands of years. . .they were sacred to my people for many centuries, then they were buried by the sand. But none of our records make mention of ruins within the caves. When O'Connell returns, I will ask him to accompany me."  
  
Celia nodded, and Ardeth asked, raising a brow, "No comments about O'Connell, my wife? Are you feeling well?" There was a gentle note of teasing in his voice, and Celia responded with a mock-glare. Ardeth just laughed and said, "I know, you behaved yourself while I was gone, and for that, I am truly grateful." She flashed him a smile as she went to work on soaping his shoulders and chest. Yes, she knew that.  
  
"I know you hate it when Rick and I argue. I prefer not to put you in the middle, which is why I usually save it for when you're not around. But truly, Ardeth. Rick and I haven't had a real argument in months," Celia told him. Both were silent for the next several as she washed him thoroughly. She was focused on her task, and Ardeth was becoming drowsy from the mixture of pampering and the warm water.  
  
It wasn't until that she reached for the shampoo, to wash her husband's hair, that he said, "There is something else that troubles you. More than those ruins, more than Jonathan's reaction to them. What troubles you, my Celia?" She didn't answer immediately, choosing instead to nudge him forward until his head rested under the faucet. For the next few seconds, there was no conversation between them, as Celia soaked the long black hair thoroughly.  
  
Once she turned off the faucet and began running her fingers through that silky mane, Celia explained, "I received an email that disturbed me, from one of my Legacy contacts. Sometime next year, London is sending a special team to Cairo, to figure out why Cairo House fell." There was a muffled curse in Arabic, and Celia didn't ask her husband to repeat himself. Instead, she continued, "I know we're returning to Hamunaptra next year, which means we'll probably end up in the crossfire."  
  
She didn't need to tell Ardeth why this was a bad thing. He almost died because of the Legacy. . .as did Miranda. But there was more information that he *did* need. Celia continued, "According to my source, London will probably send San Francisco House. Derek Rayne is the precept of that House, and while he's a decent sort, it's his psychiatric consultant who concerns me. Jason hacked into the Legacy records and did a little research."  
  
Celia's younger brother Jason was still in the Legacy, a member of New York House. While he wasn't her source, he often verified what she heard. Such was the case then. When Celia learned that London House would be sending a team to investigate the destruction of her former House, she immediately contacted her younger brother. She paused, then added, "And Ardeth, there's something else you should know. Jason told us to watch our backs."  
  
Ardeth opened his eyes, despite the imminent danger of getting shampoo in his eyes. He knew, just as well as she did, that was a very bad sign. That, from her true believer little brother? Not good. Celia explained, "Like I said, I'm concerned about the psychiatrist for Rayne's House. Dr Rachel Corrigan. She's very unstable. . .in fact, she makes Trelawny look downright sane in comparison. In 1999, a few months before I was assigned to Cairo House, Corrigan's daughter started getting involved with sorcery. Trouble is, it was called 'witchcraft.' Every time any House has a brush with sorcery, it's called 'witchcraft,' whether witches are involved or not. The Legacy has a problem with magick-users."  
  
That was actually something Ardeth learned from his father's files, as she knew from past conversations. Suleiman Bey had a great many confrontations with the Legacy. When she and Ardeth met, he was actually wary of her because of her ties to the Legacy. That was before two members of her House resurrected Imhotep and tricked him into kidnapping her then- four year old daughter. To this day, Celia still didn't know what the hell they were thinking.  
  
However, instead of dwelling on that, Celia continued, "From what Jason told me, Corrigan thinks the only good witch is a dead witch. And he doesn't think she can be trusted to leave the Med-jai alone, once she realizes the whole truth. While Rayne himself is a decent sort, he listens to Corrigan, and trusts her judgment. Jason actually snorted when he told me that there's a reference in Rayne's files to Corrigan being the best judge of character he knows."  
  
"This does not bode well, my wife. Your brother was always the more committed member of the Legacy. For him to say such a thing. . . When can we expect this visit?" Ardeth asked softly, closing his eyes once more. Someone who didn't know him as well would have mistaken the gesture for relaxation. He was tensing under her hands, though. . .and he closed his eyes to concentrate.  
  
"The good news is, we probably won't see them until next year, probably around the same time the next tribe arrives at Hamunaptra for their shift. I'll gather what information I can in the meantime. I can tell you this right now. They number either five or six. Rayne and Corrigan. I've met Rayne. I have no desire to meet Corrigan. Then there's Nick Boyle, a Legacy brat like me. His father was a disgrace to the Legacy and to the uniform he wore. Boyle is the security chief," Celia explained.  
  
She paused while she rinsed the soap from Ardeth's hair. It gave her a chance to rest her voice, and besides, the running water made it difficult to speak. After she was satisfied that no soap suds remained in his hair, she turned off the water and helped him sit up. Ardeth made no move to get out of the bathtub, so she continued, "Alex Moreau is their chief researcher. I've swapped email with her. . .she's a cool lady. Think Evy with darker skin and without the tendency to open things that should remain closed."  
  
That won her a rueful grin, and Celia smiled back, continuing, "Kristen Adams is another researcher, something of a child prodigy. She's an anthropologist, daughter of a geneticist who was a consultant for the Legacy. It seems 1999 was not a particularly happy year for the San Francisco House. Rayne was nearly killed in an explosion. And Kristen almost died that year, while protecting the final member of the House. Father Philip Callaghan, priest, scholar and linguist. On-again, off-again member of the Legacy until Kristen almost died in his arms."  
  
Ardeth raised an eyebrow. Celia shrugged, adding, "I don't have the full story. But from what I've heard, that drew him back to the Legacy once and for all. Based on what I know *of* him, though, it seems likely that he remained with the Legacy to watch over her. That sounds like him. I've also met Father Philip, albeit briefly. . .I liked him. He isn't comfortable with pagans in the Legacy, but that's par for the course. Unlike other members, he didn't think that I should be burned at the stake for my beliefs. . .or for putting my daughter first."  
  
It was Ardeth's turn to snort, as that tendency never failed to irritate him. While he had no choice but to put his family as his second priority, as the chieftain of the Med-jai, he had little patience with the Legacy and its tendency to destroy families. The work the Legacy did was a little broader in scope, but where the Legacy tended to destroy individuals and families, the Med-jai were far more protective of their families. It never failed to amaze Celia. . .how the older organization was better at keeping its priorities straight than the younger.  
  
When she met Ardeth, Celia was facing a suspension because she put her daughter before the Legacy. Her precept at the time 'suggested' that she take time off to 'get her priorities straight.' Celia *had* her priorities straight. When she learned she was pregnant with Miranda, and realized that the little girl's father would be of no use, she informed the Legacy hierarchy that if she remained with the ancient society, it would have to come second. A little person was depending on her now. She was assured that they would want it no other way.  
  
Of course, that was before Rachel Corrigan's tendency toward hysterics almost led to the downfall of San Francisco House on more than one occasion. Even so, that was Rachel Corrigan, and it had nothing to do with Celia. That was actually one reason she liked Derek Rayne. He never penalized Rachel Corrigan for putting her daughter first. On the other hand, he also let that woman get away with murder. Not quite literally, but close. More than once, Celia thanked her goddess for keeping her out of the same House as that woman.  
  
Ardeth broke into her thoughts, murmuring, "That is another year away, my wife. And we can only do so much before the Legacy team arrives. Tell me more about these ruins that Jonathan has found." Celia nodded and backed away to allow Ardeth out of the tub. She supposed she could have made him sit in the cold bathwater, but that would have been counterproductive.  
  
"I really don't know that much. Jonathan found it hard to describe the ruins, and even the boys weren't much help in that respect. He did, however, draw a map. Aleta did let it slip to me that ever since they explored that cave, Jonathan's been experiencing nightmares. He tries to hide it from her. . .you know Jonathan, he's twice as protective of Aleta while she's pregnant. . . but she found out anyhow," Celia explained.  
  
Ardeth rolled his eyes, and Celia added in a mock-scolding voice, "And don't even think about making a comment about that, young man! You're just as protective of me, especially when I'm pregnant. . .and I'm just as protective of you. I just don't pretend that it's something else. Although, at this point, you would think that Jonathan had figured out that trying to protect one of Altair's kids is like trying to bottle the wind. It never works."  
  
"Shukran. . .I think," Ardeth said dryly as she helped him to dry off. He shooed her away, and Celia raised her hands, backing off. She knew him well enough not to be upset. He didn't usually let her dry certain areas, much less in the middle of a serious conversation. Instead, she went to the door for his bathrobe. Ardeth continued, "I need to see to the interrogation in the morning. I believe I will speak to Jonathan after that. Perhaps the day after tomorrow, I will ride out to the caves to see these ruins for myself."  
  
"That would be good," Celia replied, handing him the robe. He shrugged into it, tying the belt loosely around his waist, and Celia continued, "Rick and Evy should be back then. I'd feel better, knowing Rick was there to watch your back." Ardeth looked at her in surprise, and Celia gave a tiny shrug of her own, adding, "I told you. Rick and I ironed out any real problems we had years ago, after he came for us. I just like to give him a hard time. He'd worry about me if I didn't harass him at least once during a visit."  
  
"The frightening part of that statement is, I believe you," Ardeth said dryly. He sighed, then added, "Enough of the ruins and the Legacy. And the daily events can wait until another time. For now, I wish to retire to our room, and hear about our children." He looked tired. Bedroom acrobatics could wait. Her husband needed rest. Celia gave him a little push toward the door, pausing just long enough to pull the plug on the tub. Then she followed him from the room. She would tuck him into bed, then check on the children. One last time.  
  
. . .  
  
"What are your intentions, my love?"  
  
Jonathan Carnahan looked up a little guiltily as he and his wife walked home. Their infant son was nestled happily in his father's arms. Who would have thought it? Jonathan Carnahan, the original wastrel himself, was a good father. . .and a good husband. Sometimes, when he stopped and thought about it, the changes in his life took Jonathan's breath away. So much changed since Imhotep's third and final rising.  
  
In some ways, Jonathan was grateful to whoever released the biological agent near the Med-jai camp at Hamunaptra two years earlier. He certainly didn't think so at the time, not as sick as he was. But if he wasn't so sick, he would have never fallen in love with Aleta Bey. He would have never married her, never had a child with her, never would have found a purpose and a home of his own.  
  
"Why, my intentions are to go home and put this young man to bed, then ravish my beautiful wife while I still can, of course," Jonathan said, only half-joking. The trouble was, that wasn't what Aleta meant, and he knew that. He knew it, even before she looked at him reprovingly. The same look she gave Ardeth when he was taking foolish chances with his health. Jonathan sighed.  
  
"That is not what I mean, and you know it. Do you intend to tell my brother about your dreams? He will want to know. I have told Celia about your nightmares, and she will tell Ardeth," Aleta said calmly as she opened the door to their home. Jonathan glared at her.  
  
But, of course, it had no effect on his wife. She was the daughter of Suleiman and Altair, the sister of Andreas, Ardeth, Acacia and Anatol. Jonathan's glares were nothing to her. He sighed once more, answering, "I suppose I should. The more he knows, and all that. It just. . .it sounds so foolish, Aleta. After everything Ardeth has faced in his life, after all the nightmares he's had to endure. . .mine sounds like nothing."  
  
"Never say that!" Aleta hissed out, her eyes narrowing. Her voice was still low, to avoid waking Terrence, but her anger came through loud and clear. Jonathan cringed. His wife could be very. . .vehement. And with pregnancy hormones, anything was possible. Aleta continued, "Jonathan, you have endured nightmares yourself. Seeing your sister die, right in front of your eyes. Yes, Alex brought her back. . .but she still died. Never say that your nightmares are foolish. Not unless they involve giant pink bunny rabbits."  
  
Jonathan couldn't help himself. He laughed, and Aleta hugged his arm, adding, "And you should know, my husband, that I was chilled when you told me of your nightmares. Especially the part involving the huge, lidless red eye. When I was in college, I took several psychology courses. And this huge, lidless red eye. . .it sounds like a nightmare in and of itself. Something primeval and terrible. You are not foolish to fear it. You are wise."  
  
"This from the woman who has lived a nightmare for most of her life," Jonathan replied as Aleta led him and Terrence into the house. Aleta shrugged. He knew what that meant. She lived with it for such a long time, she didn't know any other way to live. But even if it no longer phased her, Jonathan knew it would never stop frightening him. He was married to a healer. He wasn't in the same position as his friend Celia, who was married to the Med- jai chieftain. . .a combination of king, general, and visionary.  
  
But healers sometimes died in the line of duty, and being the youngest sister of the Med-jai chieftain didn't shield Aleta from traveling to the scenes of battles to administer to the wounded. Jonathan feared for his wife. . .that was the other reason he was so happy to learn she was pregnant once more. He was thrilled about being a father again, and giving little Terrence a baby brother or a baby sister. But since she was pregnant, she would be one of the last healers asked to go to the front lines.  
  
And Jonathan was sick of talking about this. He was sick of talking about that damnable eye, he was sick of thinking about monstrous figures that looked human at first. He was sick of thinking about a very old man with long white hair who exuded evil. Jonathan once considered Imhotep evil. And he would never be comfortable around that man. But the man in Jonathan's dreams make Imhotep look like a Sunday school teacher in comparison.  
  
Jonathan didn't know what made the man so evil. Didn't know what sorts of things he did that made him evil. He didn't know, and he didn't want to know. Was he like Imhotep was during the hom-dai? Or was he more like the Scorpion King? The questions remained, and he supposed he would have to tell Ardeth that as well. Perhaps sensing his general feeling, Aleta took the baby from his arms and kissed Jonathan's cheek gently, murmuring, "I will put Terrence back to bed, Jonathan. And then, we will talk about something far more pleasant."  
  
Jonathan managed a smile, knowing that his wife was trying to help in the only way she had available. He replied, "Shall we discuss baby names, my dear, or perhaps how to decorate the nursery?" Aleta winked at him, even as she smiled, and as always, the smile turned his knees to water. Jonathan thought about his previous marriages. He always believed he was in love then. But the way he felt about Aleta made all of those pale in comparison.  
  
"Even better. I know of a house, bigger than this, that has become available. If you wish to look at it after talking to Ardeth tomorrow, then I shall speak with Garai and he will arrange it for us," Aleta answered with a smile best described as devilish. She added, her dark eyes twinkling, "Besides. There is no reason to believe that this will be our last child, and we must have room to grow."  
  
Jonathan stared at her in astonishment, then said the only appropriate thing under the circumstances, "I love you!" This was something that troubled him, ever since he found out that Aleta was pregnant. As happy as he was, he was also worried about the extra room they would need once the baby was born. Obviously, it also occurred to his wife. . .on the other hand, Aleta was, by nature, far more practical than he was.  
  
And she smiled at him serenely, answering, "I know." With that, she headed into the nursery. Jonathan looked around the small house that was his home for the last two years. Yes, they would need a larger house. But, he would miss this small house. Some of the happiest times of his life were spent in this house. His son was born in this house. And it was in this house that he finally understood what love between a man and a woman was meant to feel like.  
  
As distractions went, it was a fine one indeed. But his wife was a healer, and part of her success as a healer came in her ability to alleviate pain. If you gave a warrior a focus for something other than the agony tearing his body apart, it made healing his wounds far easier. There was a certain amount of manipulation involved in it, certainly. But one also couldn't argue with success. At least, Jonathan saw it that way.  
  
So, he wasn't upset with his wife for her manipulations. Indeed, he was quite grateful to her. A new house. He wasn't sure what would be asked of him in return. There were some benefits to belonging to the chieftain's family. At least, many in the Asu tribe understood how much their young chieftain sacrificed for them, and they did what they could to help his family. Especially his mother and his sisters, though Anatol reaped some benefits as well.  
  
That reminded him. . . As Aleta returned to the front room, Jonathan asked his wife, "By the way. . .where is your younger brother? I haven't seen him in several weeks." Not since Jonathan's sister and other brother- in-law arrived with Alex, come to think of it. Aleta actually dropped her eyes and scurried past him. Hmm. That wasn't like his wife at all. In fact, it reminded him more of that little fellow who seemed to have more lives than a cat. Beni. That was something Beni would do. . .not Aleta.  
  
He caught her arm easily, though gently, and asked, "Aleta? Dearly beloved, light of my heart, mother of my s. . .my children. Just why are you acting like Beni Gabor all of a sudden?"  
  
She gave him an innocent 'who, me?' look that fell flat. Jonathan narrowed his eyes, adding, "And I've seen better innocent looks from Imhotep. Out with it. What is going on with Anatol? And don't tell me nothing." Aleta sighed, suddenly sounding just like her older brother. Jonathan decided that he did not want to pursue that particular train of thought, and instead, focused on whatever his wife was about to tell him.  
  
"Anatol is out of the country. I cannot tell you much more than that, because I know very little of what is going on. Apparently, some of our allies have run into trouble, and Anatol has gone to help them. We have no way of knowing when he will return. In a way, I was actually relieved when you found that cave. It prevented me from worrying so much for my little brother," Aleta admitted with a sigh.  
  
Back to that damn cave again. Jonathan was glad Ardeth and the others were home. Maybe once he took Ardeth to that damn cave, and a Med- jai guard was assigned to that place, Jonathan would stop having nightmares. It didn't always work, but oft-times, once he knew why he felt a certain way about a particular place, his nightmares would ease. He hoped that would be the case once more. For now, he merely slipped his arms around his wife. It was his turn to distract her. He knew what it was like to be afraid for a younger sibling. All too well.  
  
. . .  
  
Unbeknownst to anyone in Tiri, Rick and Evelyn O'Connell were, at that very moment, exploring the same caves which Jonathan, Alex, and Darius discovered such a short time ago. And they were exploring those caves for the very same reason Ardeth Bey wanted to investigate them. . .because of the haunted expression in Jonathan Carnahan's eyes. Evelyn Carnahan O'Connell knew her older brother very well, indeed, and she was very determined to discover the reason for his nightmares.  
  
Like Celia, Evy learned that her brother was having nightmares. And like Aleta, she learned what they were about. In all of her life, Evy never heard anything about an experience that would cause her brother to react in such a way to those ruins. That made her all the more determined to find out the truth.  
  
Fortunately, at least to her husband's way of thinking, she didn't preface the suggestion as she did too many times. Namely, 'it's just a cave. . .what harm ever came from exploring a cave?' Then again, she wouldn't. . .Evy would remember the last time they explored a cave. And, he had to admit, he hadn't heard that 'what harm ever came' question in more than two years. Not since the Scorpion King's rising. Then again, that little misadventure cost Evy her life (for about thirty minutes or so) and nearly cost them their son.  
  
Which was why Rick wasn't letting down his guard. To him, the ruins they found within the cave looked harmless. He couldn't understand what it was about these things that troubled Jonathan so greatly. . .to the point that he was having nightmares about them. He described his dreams to Evy, and that prompted this little expedition. No doubt, Evy told Celia a half- truth, one that Celia would readily believe, since Rick and Evy had such a hard time keeping their hands off each other.  
  
Not that Celia had much room to talk. She and Ardeth couldn't keep their hands off each other, either. But that was to be expected, after only two years of marriage. Plus, Rick thought a bit cynically, those five years they had together as Prince Rameses and Lady Ardath before Ardath was murdered by Khaldun. He ignored the whispers from his previous self. By now, he could do that. Ardeth was right, again. Damn him. Once he stopped denying whom and what he was in the past. . .well, his life became a little less difficult.  
  
Except when Terumun refused to shut up. But his previous incarnation was as baffled by the caves as they were. He was only a few years older than Shakir Bey when the newly-appointed captain led the Med-jai from Thebes to the caves. He remembered those caves well. As a Med-jai, he helped to explore them, to make sure they were fit for human inhabitation. And those ruins weren't there at the time.  
  
Rick didn't want to hear that. He wanted Terumun to tell him that he remembered those ruins very well, that they were carved or created by a bored Med-jai with too much time on his hands. That wasn't what was happening. From Terumun, and from Ardeth's own records, these caves were sacred to the Med-jai for many centuries, and the Med-jai tribes stationed at Tiri kept a guard there at all times.  
  
As the centuries passed, however, the entrances to the caverns were filled with sand. It wasn't until the previous week that a storm blew open the entrances once more. Jonathan took Alex and Darius out before they drove Celia insane with their addiction to computer games, and the trio found the cavern for the first time in probably two thousand years. Evy was mumbling under her breath, and Rick hoped like hell that his wife didn't awaken anything this time.  
  
It was bad enough that Imhotep was back in Tiri. Though Terumun often reprimanded Rick for his attitude toward the former high priest, O'Connell didn't much care. There were too many times when Imhotep almost cost him everything. Including his best friend. To which, Terumun always reminded his younger spirit-twin that Imhotep also helped to save his best friend's life. And that however things might have begun, the former mummy was starting to care as much for Ardeth as Rick himself did.  
  
Rick ignored that. And Terumun's insinuation that Imhotep might actually care more about Ardeth than Rick did, because it sounded too much like an accusation that Ardeth once made. That Imhotep, who suffered so greatly at the hands of the Med-jai, actually trusted Ardeth more than Rick did. Of course, that was while Ardeth was recovering from a nearly fatal illness, and after Rick accused him of trying to get Evy and the then- unborn Nefertiri killed. But the accusation still hurt, and if he was really honest, Rick had never forgiven Ardeth for it.  
  
To distract himself from those painful memories (which included memories of what might have been), Rick asked his wife, "So. You think you're gonna wake up anything? I mean, so far we've had to deal with Imhotep, the Scorpion King, and Khaldun. Do you know of any other legendary figures that might turn out to be not so legendary, and very mean?" Evy glared at him as she straightened up.  
  
"If you'll notice, *Mister* O'Connell, I didn't touch it. I didn't read anything aloud, and I didn't open anything. Actually, come to think of it, I didn't read anything, period. I don't recognize the language. When is Ardeth due home? This may be Med-jai, but I would rather he take a look at it, and let us know," Evy replied, still frowning. Rick winced. Okay, bad sign. She only called him 'mister' when she was well and truly annoyed with him.  
  
"I think they get back today or tomorrow. That was what Celia was anticipating, based on her most recent phone call from Ardeth. I dunno, honey. According to Terumun's memories, this wasn't here when the Med-jai came through three thousand years ago. And I've looked at Ardeth's files, the records that have been translated into other languages. If no one has been in here for three thousand years, then how did they get here?" Rick asked, gesturing to the ruins.  
  
"Magic," Evy said simply. Rick sighed. He was *really* hoping that she wouldn't say that. It was bad enough that he got it from Terumun, but his own wife. If they got here by magic, that was a very, very bad thing. Evy looked back at the ruins, saying, "We keep calling them ruins, but I don't think that's what it is. What do they look like to you, Rick? The first thing you thought about, when we came in here and found them?"  
  
"Well. . . They kinda reminded me of Alex's sandcastles when we were tracking him and Imhotep two years ago. Before Imhotep and Anck-su-namun turned over a new leaf," Rick observed. When that bitch Meela killed you. Evy nodded, her dark eyes glowing with excitement. Uh-oh. He knew that look. She always had *that* look right before they went on one of their misadventures. Rick asked, almost regretting it before the words were out, "Uh, honey? Whatcha thinking?"  
  
"I'm not sure yet," she admitted, biting her lower lip thoughtfully, "but I think we should go back to Tiri, and talk to Ardeth. I'm sure if he's not home yet, he will be soon, and I want to see what he knows about this, if anything." Well, that was a relief. For a moment there, Rick thought his wife might suggest trying to figure out how this thing worked. If they were gonna do that, Rick wanted some back-up.  
  
Preferably of the Med-jai variety, though he knew the Med-jai had little use for him or his family. They kinda had a grudge against the O'Connells, and the way they cavalierly placed the life of their chieftain in danger. At least, that was the collective opinion of the Med-jai up until a few years ago. The Med-jai started changing their collective mind right around the time Rick reluctantly joined forces with his worst enemy to save his best friend. Then again, that would be reassuring. Looking back now, Rick couldn't really blame them. He had to think only of how he would react if someone pulled those kinds of stunts with Alex or Evy's lives. Or, god forbid, his baby girl.  
  
Ardeth forgave him a long time ago, because that was the kinda man he was. There were times when Rick hated him for being a better man than Rick, without really trying. But there were too many times when Ardeth risked his life to save Rick's family. Hating him would not have been an appropriate response. He resolutely told Terumun's voice inside his head to shut up. Terumun didn't listen, of course. He never did.  
  
"So, we go back to Tiri and tell Ardeth what we found?" Rick questioned and Evy nodded absently. Rick continued, "What do you think caused Jonathan's nightmares? I mean, I don't get any weird sense around this thing, but I don't think his nightmares were caused by something that he ate." Evy looked at him, her eyes troubled. Rick almost groaned. Oh, no. He knew that look, too. It meant they were all in trouble.  
  
"I don't know for sure, Rick. . .but this I do know, darling. Jonathan wasn't imagining things when he was here. I feel it, too. Whoever put this here. . .it was someone very powerful. And very evil. Come on. Let's get out of here. Just looking at it makes me feel dirty," Evy replied, shuddering. Rick put his arm protectively around her shoulders, looking around warily. Not that he would have told Evy, but he felt about the way he did when he and Ardeth went to the British Museum to rescue her. He half-expected a mummy to jump out at them.  
  
Oh yeah. They were definitely not coming back to this place without Ardeth and some additional back-up. Like maybe the entire Asu tribe? As Rick left the cavern, his arm still wrapped protectively around his wife, perhaps it was fortunate that he never saw the ghostly image of the man appear beside the ruins. Or whatever the hell it was. The man had long white hair and a snowy-white beard. His smile was cruel as he watched the two people go. Then he, too, disappeared. . .within a single, lidless red eye. 


	3. An Evil in Any Time

And now, we get to the fun stuff!  
  
Sailor Elf: Yeah, Ardeth DOES have cute kids. Just wait until the sequel, 'The Med-jai Legacy.' That's when Miranda and Andreas really end up in the spotlight. And I thought you were ALWAYS hyperactive!  
  
Part Two  
  
It took a half hour to reach the city of Tiri, after leaving the caves her older brother discovered, and it took almost that entire time for Evelyn Carnahan O'Connell to stop trembling. She excavated countless tombs, encountered almost as many forms of evil. . .but except for her first encounter with Imhotep, seven years earlier, Evy never felt dirty. Not the way she felt right now, and she shivered again, despite the heat of the late August sun.  
  
In some ways, it angered her. She was thirty years old. . .the mother of two children, but right now, she felt like a child herself, clinging to the protection of her parents. Or, in this case, her elder brothers. Evy wanted to investigate those caverns, because they obviously upset her brother Jonathan so terribly. And now, after investigating them, she understood why. . .and she wanted her other older brother, namely Ardeth, to tell her that everything would be all right.  
  
As they approached the gates of the city, Evy heard a voice hailing them. She looked up and smiled at the sight of young Nicodemus waving to her with a broad grin. The gates were opened, swinging with a creaky sound that was curiously comforting. The young Med-jai scrambled down to meet them, pausing long enough to nod to Rick, then said, "Welcome back to Tiri, sister of our chieftain!"  
  
Evy's camel lowered itself to the ground at her signal, and she patted its head gently as she dismounted. She embraced the young Med-jai, saying, "It's good to see you, Nico! When did you get back? Did everything go well?" Before she and Rick left on their own expedition, Evy learned from Altair Bey that Ardeth and the other warriors were out on a hunt, tracking down a renegade Med-jai who sought to sell secrets to the various enemies of the Med-jai. It was feared that he would tell those enemies about Ardeth Bey's American queen.  
  
"Yes, we caught the traitor before he had a chance to meet anyone. He is now in the hands of our interrogators, and the questioning will begin tomorrow morning. For tonight, we celebrate our return. If you wish to speak with our chieftain, he and the queen retired to their own home," Nicodemus replied. Rick shifted uncomfortably at Evy's side, and the young Med-jai inclined his head, adding in a flat voice, "O'Connell."  
  
Rick returned the nod, answering, "Nicodemus. You figure Ardeth has zonked yet?" Evy smothered a grin, as Nicodemus mouthed 'zonked' with a confused frown. Rick obviously realized his error, for he continued, "Sorry. What I mean was, if he's at home, do you think he's asleep yet? 'Cause we gotta talk to him about something real important, but I don't want to interrupt his sleep."  
  
Nicodemus merely smiled sweetly, replying, "I am sure you do not. Our queen can be quite ruthless if she and the chieftain are disturbed while they are asleep. I do not know, but I do know the chieftain will be quite irritated with me if I tell you that you cannot see him." Evy could hardly argue with that. Ardeth had a hard enough time dealing with Celia's protective streak. . .she was his wife. That was the way it worked. But he had a much harder time when his warriors started making decisions for him. That, he would not tolerate.  
  
"That will do," Rick said agreeably. Nicodemus just scowled at him, and Rick continued, "C'mon, honey, let's go see if anyone's awake." He led Evy away, and the Englishwoman waved to Nicodemus. Rick murmured, "You know, I think at this point I could probably fight off an entire raid single-handedly, and his opinion of me still wouldn't change." It wasn't that he was concerned about Nico's opinion of him. It was a simple statement of fact.  
  
Evy rubbed her hand along his back, replying, "Oh, honey, he's young yet. Young and proud and headstrong. At least now he'll be civil to you. That was more than you got before the Lock-nah incident." That was what she always called it. The incident which almost killed her big brother and her best friend, the same incident which led to the end of a three thousand year old vendetta. To say nothing of Beni Gabor's resurrection.  
  
Rick shrugged, answering, "I suppose so. You would have thought, though, that Celia would tell her bodyguards to be nicer to me." Evy raised her eyebrows at her husband, even as she smiled at people they passed in the street. Nico was a member of Celia's personal guard, yes, but that didn't mean she had that much control over him! Nico made up his own mind, just as all of the Med-jai did.  
  
"They know the important things, Rick. They know that when it mattered most, you were there for Ardeth. Maybe it will take a while for them to forgive us for raising Imhotep, and the Scorpion King, but they also haven't forgotten that you were willing to work with your worst enemy to save their chieftain," Evy replied. She shivered again, unable to push that horrible week out of her mind. Though Evy didn't accompany her husband and Imhotep on that particular mission, she still heard about it every night since. What Rick wouldn't tell her when the sun was up, she learned from his nightmares. That would have been truly horrible, but Anck- su-namun was kind enough to fill in the blanks.  
  
She would have said more, but they were approaching the house where Ardeth and Celia lived while they were in Tiri. Evy studied the house with a thoughtful frown. It was hardly the domicile one would expect for a leader of his people, but Ardeth was no ordinary chieftain, either. In the first place, as Rick explained to his fellow Americans at Hamunaptra, seven years earlier, the Med-jai were a desert people. They valued water, not gold.  
  
In the second place, the Med-jai were a warrior culture. They didn't set a great deal of store in material goods. Even so, as Evy slipped into the house, Rick right behind her, she looked around. There were a few more furnishings since she was last here. When Ardeth first brought Celia, Miranda, and Andreas to Tiri, this house was somewhat of a typical young bachelor in terms of furnishings.  
  
It wasn't messy, but it lacked any stamps of Ardeth's personality. That changed over the last two years, as Celia quietly started decorating it whenever she was in Cairo with Evy. In addition, with the recent fall of Cairo House, some of those treasures ended up in Med-jai hands. Celia was the only surviving member, after all. And some of those treasures were never meant to be seen by outsiders. The Med-jai took back what was theirs.  
  
What always shocked Rick was Celia's sense of what her husband liked. Though she decorated the house, her own likes were intermingled with Ardeth's. Their American friend explained that it was something she picked up while she was in the Legacy. . .weaving different personalities, different styles, into a cohesive tapestry. The answer was a little on the enigmatic side, but Evy put that down to Celia's marriage to Ardeth. Some of his mysterious attitudes were starting to manifest in his wife.  
  
"I thought I heard the door open," a sleepy voice greeted them, and Evy smiled as she turned to face her best friend. Celia's curly dark hair was disheveled, as were her own black Med-jai robes, but she smiled at them both welcomingly. She stifled a yawn with the back of her hand, continuing, "It's good to see you both. C'mon, Ardeth will want to see you." She beckoned them both into the room she shared with Ardeth.  
  
He was still asleep. . .curled on his side, his raven hair covering his face. Celia walked to the bed and sat down beside him, quietly calling his name. Ardeth awoke immediately, his body jerking into alertness, and Celia murmured, "It's all right, Ardeth, you're home. Rick and Evy are here." Ardeth sat up, blinking sleepily, and smiled at them both. He looked so tired, and Evy felt more than a little guilty at disturbing his rest.  
  
Rick walked over to the bed and sat down beside Ardeth, saying softly, "Hey, buddy. Good to see you made it back in one piece. I hear you got the bastard." Ardeth nodded, his dark eyes reflecting his distaste for what would come the following day. If needed, the interrogators would torture their prisoner, but Evy knew her friend. He wouldn't duck his responsibilities, he wouldn't push them off onto someone else. That wasn't his way. It was his responsibility to observe the interrogation the following morning, and disseminate whatever information came out of the session. Rick continued, neatly avoiding the topic of the interrogation all together, "And he didn't get a chance to sell his secrets?"  
  
"La. Tomorrow, we will find out more. . .including whom his partners were," Ardeth replied. His voice was cold, but Evy knew that his anger wasn't directed at them. Rather, it was directed at the Med-jai who would have sold out his people. Ardeth shook himself, then continued, "Forgive me, my friends. I find I am still angry. It was necessary to listen to the traitor during the return to Tiri, and that left me in a foul mood."  
  
General translation, the betrayer whined and complained all the way back to Tiri. Based on what Evy heard before they left, the renegade turned against Ardeth when the chieftain refused to set his American wife aside. It didn't help that the traitor once courted Sanure. When her own father, Nizam Toth, murdered her the man held Ardeth responsible for the woman's death.  
  
Rick knew this as well, and replied gently, "Hey, buddy, you don't have to apologize to us. I heard through the grapevine some of the things that putz said, to you, and about Celia. If anyone talked about my wife like that, I woulda castrated 'em." The scary thing was, Evy knew her husband wasn't joking. If Rick ever caught someone speaking of her with such hatred, he would do far worse than simply castrate the trash-talker.  
  
It wasn't just that the Med-jai queen was insulted by the renegade. Ardeth didn't like it, of course. . .but when one of his warriors threatened his wife, he tended to take it rather seriously. And just as personally. This man, Gibrail, did that. . .worse, he threatened to inform enemies of the Med-jai that the chieftain took an American wife. Something that would have resulted in an attack against the Med-jai at all their posts.  
  
To protect his wife, to protect his people, Ardeth was willing to take extreme measures. There was a time when Evy would have found such a thing distasteful. . .would have considered Ardeth a barbarian for taking such measures. But she grew up since then, and understood that he did what was necessary for his family. All of his family. She would certainly do no less for Rick or Jonathan, Alex or Nefertiri. And to distract Ardeth for the coming unpleasantness of the interrogation, Evy decided it was time she told them the reason for the visit.  
  
"Rick and I just returned from a visit to the caves that Jonathan and the boys discovered," she said. Evy winced herself, hearing the delivery of that sentence. *Oh, for goodness sake,* she thought, chastising herself, *you could have done a better job of it!* She wasn't the only one who thought so, either. With those words spoken, Evy found herself on the receiving end of three startled looks. She shrugged at her husband, whose expression questioned the wisdom of her timing. In for a penny, in for a pound. Evy continued, "I'm sure, Ardeth, that Celia has told you about the caverns recently re-discovered by your nephew and my son. Since Jonathan seemed so. . .rattled. . .by them, I decided to investigate. Rick came with me."  
  
Both Celia and Ardeth leaned forward, Ardeth asking intently, "And what did you find, my sister?" My sister. Such a long way they came from that first midnight raid at Hamunaptra! Evy shivered in spite of herself, and saw Ardeth's eyes darken. He stated, rather than asked, "It is not good, is it?" Both Rick and Evy shook their heads, and Ardeth sighed, "Then tell me, my friends. Tell me what happened."  
  
Rick was the first to find his tongue, replying, "Back when I first met Evy, she asked me what I thought was at Hamunaptra." Ardeth nodded, not because he remembered the incident in question, but because he remembered the first time Rick was *at* Hamunaptra. Evy's husband continued, "I told her, in a word, evil was there. That was what I sensed when I was there in 1991. And that's what I felt in those caves. It gets worse."  
  
"He's right," Evy said, taking up the narrative, "there is evil in that place. We've faced many dangers together, dear brother, and many evils. But never before have I felt dirty just being around an artefact. Not even when Imhotep rose the first time did I ever feel dirty. . .well, if you ignore when he kissed me and he wasn't fully regenerated. Those ruins got into that cavern by one way, and one way only. By magic."  
  
Ardeth sighed once more and murmured, "I was afraid of that. When Celia told me what was found, where it was found, and how it was discovered, I had an uneasy sense about how those ruins got there." He added a few choice words in Arabic that Evy didn't bother translating in her head. She didn't think she wanted to know. After a moment, Ardeth continued, "Evelyn, tell me more about Jonathan's nightmares. . .and more about these ruins. If I am to guard them, I must know what we are guarding."  
  
Once more, Rick spoke up, saying, "Not much to tell. They're about as tall as my waist, and they're two spiked towers. You know, like turrets on castles. And Evy's right. I felt dirty just looking at them. What scared me even more was, Evy told me that she didn't recognize the writing on them. It sure as hell wasn't Arabic, English, or ancient Egyptian. . .or any other dead or alive language that either of us have heard of."  
  
Ardeth didn't reply immediately. He was concentrating on what Rick told him. Once upon a time, Evy would have tried to rationalize what they saw, and what they felt. That was, of course, before Imhotep rose. . .at all. . .before the Scorpion King rose, before Evy herself died and came back to life, before any of the last seven years happened. Finally, feeling the tension in the room build to an unbearable level, Evy blurted out, "Why don't you come with us to see it for yourself, Ardeth?"  
  
"That. . .would probably be best. No one truly expects me at the celebration tonight. Or any of the other married warriors, for that matter. Celia, would you object to attending the celebration in my stead?" Ardeth asked, looking at his wife. Evy wanted to tell her brother about how Celia held up while he was away, but she held her tongue. No. No, there was time enough for that later. Perhaps the following day after the interrogation.  
  
"Only if I can make a token appearance, love. You know these celebrations give me a headache," Celia answered ruefully. Evy nodded sympathetically, even though the words weren't directed at her. With all the bouncing around done by the dancers, and the loud beat of the drums, it was no wonder Celia got a headache! Ardeth smiled and touched his wife's cheek. Evy blushed, and Rick rolled his eyes. Evy promptly elbowed him in the ribs, gaining a 'whaaaaaaaaat?' look from her husband. He was to stop that at once! It wasn't like she and Rick really had much room to talk in that department.  
  
"Just as I know you do not wish to leave the little ones. Aywa, my queen. . .and I will return to you as soon as I am able. O'Connell, Evelyn, if you will give me but five minutes, I shall join you outside. Meet me at the stables, and we will all ride out together. Celia, I will speak to Imhotep about watching over you." Evy again jabbed her husband in the ribs when Ardeth mentioned Imhotep watching over Celia.  
  
"You might want to tell him what I told you about the Legacy. We don't want him getting caught in the crossfire," Celia replied. Evy's antennae perked up when Celia mentioned her former employers. The Legacy was sending a team to Egypt? This couldn't be a good thing. She realized she was biased against the Med-jai's younger-sister organization, but after what they did to Celia, Miranda, and Ardeth, Evy really didn't feel like cutting them any slack.  
  
"Aywa, I will speak to him about it," Ardeth agreed, then leaned over to kiss his wife. Celia cupped his face in her hands, returning the kiss, and Evy pushed her husband out the door. There was no need for them to watch this. Ardeth and Celia didn't require an audience. And she had no way of knowing it, but with what was about to happen, Evy would feel guilty enough about making her suggestion that Ardeth come with them. She didn't need any more guilt.  
  
. . .  
  
Fifteen minutes later, Ardeth, O'Connell, and Evelyn were setting out for the caves where Jonathan and the boys found the relics. Ardeth was still puzzling over what he learned in the last few minutes, as the trio rode for the cavern. He wanted as much information as he could learn. For that reason, he asked Evelyn almost absently, "Can you tell me anything about your brother's nightmares, Evelyn?"  
  
"I can tell you what he saw in his dreams," Evy answered. Ardeth nodded to indicate that he was listening, and Evy continued, "The image that stands out for him, from what I could gather, was a single, red eye. Lidless. And a sense of overwhelming evil. There was something else. An old man. . .a very old man. Snow white hair, long, down to his waist, and a matching beard. He was wrapped in evil. In fact, Jonathan told me that the sense of evil he felt this man made Imhotep, even at his worst, look like a Sunday school teacher."  
  
Ardeth was actually familiar with the slang used by his friends. Partly because of his seven-year friendship with the O'Connells, and partly because of his marriage to Celia. Imhotep, before Celia broke the spell of the hom-dai, was a singularly nasty person. Some of it was his own evil, some was the evil done to him by Ardeth's ancestors. But this evil that Evy spoke of, that was something entirely different. Before they left, she told him that it made her feel dirty. Hearing about it made Ardeth shiver.  
  
However, he had a job to do, and he meant to see it done. O'Connell asked, changing the subject, "What was this you two were talking about? With the Legacy? As in the same Legacy that raised Imhotep, kidnapped Miranda, and almost helped Khaldun destroy the world? The same Legacy that Celia left two years ago, when she married you?" Ardeth nodded, a half- smile hovering about his lips.  
  
"Yes, my friend, it is the same Legacy. Apparently, London House has grown suspicious about the downfall of Cairo House. They will be sending a team out sometime next year. Celia received an email about it from one of her remaining sympathizers in the Legacy, and her brother confirmed it for her," Ardeth replied. He winced at the stream of invectives that poured from O'Connell at this verification.  
  
"And that's why you're concerned about Imhotep. Either the Legacy will try to take him back, or destroy him. . .and the Med-jai with him," Evy observed. Ardeth inclined his head in acknowledgment. If someone told him two years earlier that he would be concerned in any way for his ancient enemy, he probably would have run them through. He still wasn't comfortable with the immortal high priest. . .  
  
But at the same time, he couldn't deny certain facts. Fact. . .he was the reincarnation of Rameses, and there was a time when Rameses and Imhotep were the very best of friends. Fact, Imhotep joined forces with the man whom he hated most in the world (namely O'Connell) to save Ardeth and Celia. Fact, his medical skills saved not only Celia's life when she went into labor with Andreas, but he also saved Ardeth's son as well. Fact, since the breaking of the hom-dai, and the beginning of Imhotep's redemption, there was never a time that he wasn't there when Ardeth needed him.  
  
"What is it about the Legacy, and their idea that they can control the uncontrollable? Didn't they get it two years ago, when those two dumb- asses joined forces with Khaldun and brought Imhotep back from the dead? Again?" O'Connell asked, unconsciously echoing something Ardeth wondered many times. Celia often told him that she wasn't entirely convinced her former colleagues knew what they were doing, when they raised Imhotep at Khaldun's behest. Ardeth wasn't so sure of that.  
  
No, he believed that the Legacy knew exactly what they were doing. . .or at least, those two members. Perhaps even that very House. It was Ardeth's considered opinion that the Legacy believed they could control Imhotep, and use him as a weapon to destroy evil. Since his body was buried at Ahm Shere, they chose instead to kill an innocent Dutch businessman, whose only crime was his resemblance to Imhotep, and used his body as a host for Imhotep's soul  
  
It happened before. Ardeth had only to look at history to know that was true. The trouble was, such people always made the mistake of thinking something could be controlled. His father mentioned such cases in his own files. It was one reason why Suleiman Bey limited his contact with the Legacy. According to Suleiman, men such as Winston Rayne were common in the Legacy. Good, decent men. . .but men who made the mistake of thinking they could control that which could not be controlled.  
  
And Celia feared that Winston Rayne's son, Derek, would head the team coming to Egypt the following year. She didn't put it in those terms, no. . .but that was the case, nonetheless. Not because she disliked or distrusted Rayne, but because she disliked and distrusted his primary advisor. Ardeth trusted his wife's instincts. She grew up in the Legacy, and while she was no longer a member, as such, it was still part of her. It was in her blood.  
  
She knew the Legacy better than he did. He listened to her, when it came to her former employers. Just like she listened to him when he advised her about the Med-jai. O'Connell said now, forcing Ardeth to pay attention to the conversation once more, "So, Jason verified it for Celia, that this is really going on? I mean, Jason? The original true believer, the guy who thought the Legacy was the be all and the end all when you and Celia first met?"  
  
"Yes," Ardeth replied, "He not only verified it, but he told Celia, in exactly these words, 'watch your back.' And that, my friend, is the most frightening part of all." O'Connell gave a low whistle, and Evelyn looked at him, anxious. The three were silent for a long time, then Ardeth added, "Celia has told me she will learn what she can until they arrive. She suspects she knows which House will be sent to investigate. San Francisco House."  
  
There was a short bark of laughter from O'Connell as he said almost derisively, "San Francisco? Shit, buddy. . .I hope for your sake that she's wrong, buddy. Our old buddy Imhotep did a fair amount of talking to Jason while *he* was still here. And Jason had plenty to say about San Francisco House. Most of it bad." Ardeth inclined his head. He wasn't of a mind to tell O'Connell that he was already gathering information about San Francisco.  
  
"I think, darling, that Ardeth is trying to focus on the current situation, rather than on what may happen in the future," Evelyn said suddenly. Ardeth looked at his 'sister,' and she winked. Blushing, Ardeth looked away as Evy continued, "And even if the mighty San Francisco House is sent. . .so what? I would match any member of that House against any member of the Med-jai any day of the week."  
  
She bobbed her head determinedly, and Ardeth smiled at her, replying, "I thank you for your confidence in my people and in me, Evelyn. However, it is my greatest hope that such a confrontation is not necessary. The Legacy works for the same ends as the Med-jai. We use different tools, and walk different paths. But in the end, we are on the same side." Again, O'Connell snorted.  
  
"You know that. I know that. But do *they* know that?" he asked. Ardeth shrugged. That was not his concern. His concern was the protection of his family and his people. His concern was making sure Khaldun didn't rise again. However, it wasn't his concern whether or not the Legacy accepted that they, and the Med-jai, were on the same side. That involved someone else's opinion, and Ardeth simply didn't care about what the Legacy thought of him.  
  
He didn't bother pointing that out to O'Connell. And there wasn't time, for Evelyn called out, "Oh, look. . .there are the caverns now. Odd. Rick, does it look like the entrance has changed shape?" Ardeth looked in the direction that his 'sister' was pointing.  
  
"Uh. . .yeah. It sure does, Evy. When we were here earlier, Ardeth, it looked. . . well, like most cave entrances look. But that. . .uh-uh. It didn't look like that," O'Connell replied, shaking his head warily. Ardeth, for his own part, was still staring at the entrance. There was something very. . .wrong. . .about the portal into the cavern. It shouldn't be that perfectly round, it shouldn't. . .shouldn't look like that.  
  
"Is it my imagination," Evelyn asked, her voice dropping to just above a whisper, "or does that almost look like. . .like a ring to you?" Ardeth was racking his brain during the last few minutes, trying to figure out what it looked like. What it reminded him of. But Evelyn was right. If Ardeth closed his eyes, he could almost see a giant finger inside that cave. A giant ring, for a giant finger. But what really un-nerved him. . .what really un-nerved him was the fact that the cave seemed to be whispering his name. Calling him forward. . .  
  
. . .  
  
*Yesssssssssssss. Come closer, my young warrior. Come closer!*  
  
Saruman, the White Wizard, stared greedily at the trio now approaching the caverns where he placed the representation of the two towers. . .the symbol of his alliance with Sauron. This boy would be necessary, he could feel it. Gandalf was returning to their world, in his new incarnation as Gandalf the White. He would rally the remnants of the Fellowship. He would give new hope to the exiled king of Gondor.  
  
But Saruman would have his own exiled king. His own general, as Aragorn was meant to be in this fight. That was why Saruman reached forth his hand into the distant future, and put the two towers in this beleaguered land. Sauron had the Witch King, of course. . .but Saruman wanted to see Aragorn, son of Arathorn, fall at the hands of a Man. One of his own kind. That would make the downfall of Man all the sweeter.  
  
He chose this young king, because he looked like an Easterling. The long, flowing black hair. . .the marks on his face. This one was a warrior, a king, a visionary. Saruman had his Urk-hai army. But just as the original orcs were Elves captured and tortured by Sauron's armies, a new version of Man would be created in the image of this proud young warrior, noble and honorable. A mirror in darkness to the equally noble Aragorn, who so frightened Saruman.  
  
The ancient wizard preferred not to think about that, however. He had the might of Sauron behind him, why should he fear a Man? Much less a man of Isildur's line? Saruman ignored the quiet voice, Gandalf's voice, that reminded him that Aragorn sent the ring away. He was an unpredictable one, Aragorn was.  
  
That was why Saruman needed a counterpart for the human king. That was why it was necessary to capture and torture this young chieftain, this young king of men. Oh, Saruman himself would not torture the boy. That would be left to his Urk-hai. But he *would* be broken. Ardeth Bey would be broken, and there would be nothing left of the steadfast, loving, loyal king now riding toward the caverns.  
  
Yes. Saruman would drive out every ounce of compassion, every ounce of love, every ounce of humanity from him. He would be an empty vessel, and Saruman would fill him with hatred and agony. The only way to ease the agony would be the infliction of pain. Saruman smiled coldly, murmuring to the young man, "You should have spent more time with your wife before you left her arms, my brave young warrior. For you will never see her again."  
  
Saruman looked away from the young man, and contemplated another puppet. Theoden King, of Rohan. Day by day, he slipped further and further away from his family. Away from his treasured son; away from his steadfast nephew (who would be a problem); and away from his beloved niece. His niece, whom Saruman promised to Grima Wormtongue in exchange for his fealty. Eowyn. Shieldmaiden of Rohan.  
  
The time was coming, he knew, when action would have to be taken against Eomer. He was far too suspicious, far too protective of his sister. Far too loyal to his cousin and his uncle. Eomer was dangerous, there was no way around it. It concerned Saruman little, the steps that would be necessary. Rohan would fall. Just as Gondor was falling. In Gondor, the ever-failing Steward made it ever easier for Saruman to move forward with his plans.  
  
It would become even easier when the old fool learned of his oldest son's death. Denethor was not particularly sane. Further, he believed that the sun rose and fell on his son Boromir. The golden oldest child, for whom everything came easily. Until he encountered the One Ring. Boromir fell. So, too, would his father. The young captain Faramir, last- born son of that same steward, was a question mark.  
  
He fought for everything in his life. His father's love, his own position. Everything that was given to his older brother as a matter of course, Faramir had to fight for. And that was where the question rested. Like all Men, he was weak. . .but one thing Saruman knew. Men could be unpredictable. It was unlikely that Faramir could resist the lure of the One Ring. . .but unlikely wasn't good enough. Troubled now, Saruman looked at the young man riding into the magical ambush. Like Faramir, Ardeth Bey never had anything given to him. Only responsibility. Left fatherless at thirteen, made chieftain at seventeen. . .not even falling in love and marrying was easy for him.  
  
He could have had any maiden within his village, or any other tribe of the Med-jai. But instead, he chose a girl from the other side of his world. A girl with a small child, a difficult brother, and a whole host of other problems. What made this so worrisome was that the difficulties faced by Ardeth and Celia Bey during their courtship and the early years of their marriage only served to intensify their bond. Ardeth Bey had to fight for everything in his life, including making Celia Ferguson his wife. He would not go easily.  
  
Fortunately, Saruman's orcs and Urk-hai were gifted at causing pain. They could break any Man. . .past, present, or future. They could break Ardeth Bey, son of Suleiman, or Aragorn, son of Arathorn, just as easily as they could break the Steward of Gondor. How could one young man, one frail Man, stand against the might of Sauron? Against the skill and practice the Urk-hai demonstrated in causing pain?  
  
He would stand alone, a stranger in a strange land. There would be no Celia Ferguson to stand against threats. . .no Imhotep to call upon the sand and the water to frighten and confuse his enemies. No Anck-su-namun to humble herself before her gods in a desperate attempt to save his life. Saruman didn't consider Rick O'Connell to be a threat of any kind. He was just a Man, and a self-centered one at that.  
  
No, in this Middle Earth, Ardeth Bey would be totally alone. He would be alone, in a land where he knew not the language or the customs, where he would be distrusted as a stranger, and he would despair. Saruman smiled, feeling peace settle over him once more. Yes. Of course. This was a place as alien to Ardeth Bey, as his own world was to Saruman. He was a child of the desert. How much time had he spent, over the course of his life, outside the desert? A very short amount. . .a matter of months, in a little over thirty years.  
  
He would have no idea what plants or animals were safe to eat. No idea of where to find shelter. The so-called Fellowship of the Ring lived here their entire lives. And yet, it fractured because of the One Ring. Because of Man's frailty and fickleness, because of his greed. The Fellowship numbered nine in its beginning. Ardeth Bey was only one man. It was utterly preposterous that one man could best Saruman when the Fellowship of Nine failed so miserably.  
  
Again, he looked at the young man for whom he planned such a terrible fate. He rode alongside his two friends. . .and this was yet another indication that Ardeth was doomed to failure in Middle Earth. Even when he had friends, he chose poorly. A woman who never listened to warnings, and a man who believed it wasn't his problem. If Ardeth had any real intelligence at all, he would have killed them both when he had the chance.  
  
Although, Saruman had to admit, it wasn't that the boy was stupid. But he was young, and he didn't understand the truth about power. He believed that power was slavery. . .he had yet to understand that power was, in fact, freedom. Saruman's orcs and his Urk-hai were free in a way that Ardeth Bey couldn't possibly comprehend. Free of compassion, free of everything but loyalty to Sauron and to Saruman.  
  
That was why the orcs and the Urk-hai would take on the oh-so- necessary task of torturing Ardeth, once he was successfully captured. That was why they could break him. Because they knew they were free. . .and they would set him free, as well. (He ignored the little voice that added how much the orcs and the Urk-hai would enjoy the torture. That was, after all, their job. . .part of their task in this new Middle Earth that Saruman was creating for Sauron.)  
  
*Come closer, my brave young warrior,* he thought once more, his eyes never leaving the dark-haired young man now riding to his destiny. *Come closer to your freedom!*  
  
Saruman had many flaws. The greatest of these flaws was his arrogance. Coming close behind it was his narrow vision. To use a term in Ardeth's world, he had tunnel vision. He could only see certain aspects of people. . .the aspects he himself understood. He only understood Imhotep's power, Celia's magic, Anck-su-namun's otherworldly gifts. He could only see the flaws demonstrated by Rick O'Connell.  
  
He didn't see Rick's ferocious loyalty, Imhotep's yearnings for redemption, Anck's determination, or Celia's love. And it was for that reason. . .for those *reasons,* that Saruman made the most dangerous mistake of all. Just as he underestimated Gandalf and Aragorn, just as he underestimated Eomer and Faramir. Just as he underestimated Merry and Pippin, Frodo and Sam. . .so, too, did he underestimate Ardeth Bey. And that misjudgment would cost him dearly.  
  
. . .  
  
"The young chieftain bade me to watch over you, little queen."  
  
His words startled the Med-jai queen. . .Imhotep could see it in the stiffness of Celia's body as she swung around to face him. Just as quickly, the stiffness was gone, and the little queen relaxed. She replied with a faint smile, "I don't have anything for you to do, Imhotep. Do you plan on simply watching me until Ardeth returns? I know you have no desire to change any more diapers." Imhotep glared at the young woman.  
  
And ignored the giggle from Anck-su-namun. It was *not* that funny! It was not funny at all. But Anck once more giggled. She enjoyed that far too much. Why, Imhotep didn't know. His old love answered, her voice a whisper in his mind, *Because there were many times, Imhotep, when Ardeth's namesake did the very same thing to me. And, Andreas has done it to his own father in the past. . .why should you be special?*  
  
Humph. Imhotep tried to ignore the giggle that brought from Anck-su- namun, and instead, he answered the little queen, "I was hoping we could finish our debate from the other day. Or, you could tell me about this fearsome organization that kidnaps little girls and calls forth demons it cannot control." He was, of course, referring to the little queen's former employers. . .the ones who were responsible for his current incarnation.  
  
Imhotep supposed, when you came right down to it, that he should be grateful to them. They, after all, gave him a second chance. . .the opportunity to make things right with the world he tried to destroy. Twice. But they tricked him into abducting a little girl and harming a young woman who never harmed him. She wasn't even part of the original force that stood against him. Worse yet, she was the reincarnation of Anck- su-namun's best friend.  
  
Celia grimaced, replying, "Do the words, 'I think not' ring any bells for you, Imhotep?" The former mummy tried not to laugh at the little queen's statement. Imhotep accused Andreas of being just like his father (and he was), but just as the young Med-jai of the Asu tribe were picking up some of their queen's American slang (much to the dismay of the elders), so, too, was the Med-jai queen picking up her husband's speech patterns. Some of them, at least.  
  
That gave Imhotep yet another way to tease the young woman. He observed drolly, "Tiyu, but not in the way your husband uses it. I believe your nephew Alex once phrased it this way. 'When Uncle Ardeth says that, it means over his dead, lifeless body!' Of course, his mother reprimanded him. Why, I do not know. . .the boy was merely speaking the truth." His diminutive hostess merely grinned impishly, her dark eyes sparkling with laughter.  
  
"Yeah, but he said it in mixed company, and that's not exactly a secret Evy wants Alex sharing with the entire world," the little queen countered. She leaned back against the counters of her kitchen, looking relaxed. . .to someone who didn't know her. Imhotep, however, knew her as Lady Ardath. . .and while they weren't the same person, the similarities could not be denied. Imhotep conveniently ignored the fact that he badly misjudged Lady Ardath during that lifetime. It wasn't a mistake he intended to repeat.  
  
He asked again, "Tell me more of this Legacy? It concerns the young king, and I can see that it concerns you as well. Jason told me a little of it, while he was here after the wedding, yet he could answer none of my questions. I believe he was too young to understand the questions I asked. Yes, you are only five years older than he. . .in terms of physical age." Celia sighed and motioned him to sit at the table.  
  
"I'm not sure if I can answer your questions, Imhotep, but I'll try. Remember, I see the Legacy from a very different perspective than Jason. In the first place, I'm a woman, and that does make a difference. More to the point, I put my daughter first. . . that's rare in the Legacy. Very rare. Most members of the Legacy, I've learned, devote themselves entirely to the organization. . .to the point of destroying their families," she explained.  
  
Imhotep nodded quietly. Jason also mentioned that to him, though in passing. His own family was one of those martyred to the Legacy's cause. The little queen continued, "Something else you should understand. By its very nature, the Legacy must remain a secret. Now, it isn't a secret to the Med-jai, because the Legacy developed as a Greek counterpart to the Med- jai. And it isn't a secret to you, because it was members of my own House that raised you. But to the rest of the world, the Legacy is a secret, and it must remain that way."  
  
"The Legacy, then," Imhotep observed, "is much like a society of high priests. Versed in magic, as well as acting as an emissary from their god." His companion dipped her head, a faint smile appearing, and Imhotep continued, "And yet, I have heard you and the young king talking about your years in this society of high priests. He is angry with them, for causing you pain. You, and Miranda both. Further, he has told me that the Legacy even fears magic-users within its own ranks. He has told me of witch- hunts, in which your Legacy participated. . . attacking anyone who was different."  
  
"Sadly, that is true," came the brutally honest answer, "and I think you'll agree, Imhotep, that most people are afraid of things they don't understand. The Legacy is made up of people, just as the Med-jai is, and they have the same capacity for good and evil that the Med-jai do. The Legacy runs the same risk of making a mistake of the sort made by the Med- jai, three thousand years ago. Yes, we know now that the Med-jai were influenced by Khaldun's spirit. But still, the potential is there. . .and that is what frightens many."  
  
Ahhh. Yes, now Imhotep saw! Celia continued after a moment, "You spoke a moment ago of priests. The Legacy does have priests among its members. But they aren't the priests of your time. Most of them are Catholic priests." Catholic? Oh yes, now Imhotep remembered learning of them. The Ferguson family, despite their Scottish surname, belonged to the Catholic faith. That was true of Jason. . .it was not true of Celia, or their older brother Galen.  
  
And yet. . .as a high priest, Imhotep knew that magic's greatest ally was faith. He observed as much to his companion, who countered, "Ahhh, but that's good magic. It's good magic, because it's wielded by holy men, by priests." But Imhotep knew all too well that holy men were just as susceptible to greed and temptation as any man. Not only that, but he realized as he thought over the young woman's words, that she was describing a double standard.  
  
For the first time, Imhotep understood Celia's ambivalent attitude toward the Legacy. They were on the side of the angels, as the current saying went, but it was no different than any other human institution. It was wrought with corruption and foolishness, with double standards and what the little queen called glass ceilings. By the same token, it claimed to protect the innocent, yet, it had no qualms whatsoever about sacrificing the innocent for its own needs.  
  
So he told her, "I see. The Legacy fears magic, because it represents the unknown. Unless it is used by one of their own, and therefore, it is more easily controlled, because one of their own is more easily controlled. But Celia, that still leaves many questions unanswered. Why does the Legacy not acknowledge that their own priests, whatever they may be, are as susceptible to doubt, fear, greed, and temptation?"  
  
She only smiled, and Imhotep understood. There was sadness in her dark hazel eyes, though the sadness was not for him. It was for her colleagues in the Legacy, the ones who still didn't understand what he just realized. Imhotep said after a moment, nodding his comprehension, "It is why you fear the Legacy. . .and fear *for* it. Because it does not accept that not even holy men are protected from being human beings. I was a high priest of Osiris, but that did not prevent me from falling in love with Anck-su-namun or killing Seti. Having great power does not mean that one knows how to use it properly."  
  
"Precisely. In the Legacy, we only learn about the bad magicians, the ones who were seduced by the dark with false promises. But there are good magicians as well. Mages who use their abilities to protect others, who stand against the darkness. Not all of them call themselves magicians, of course. Some call themselves priests. . .others call themselves warriors. But magicians they are, and it isn't magic so much that gives them power. Their magic comes from their determination, from their hearts, and from their souls," the little queen answered.  
  
"Ardeth is one," Imhotep realized, and a chill went down his spine. For the first time, it occurred to him, what a prize the young chieftain would be to those seduced by evil's false promises. A brave, strong, proud young warrior. A young warrior with a great deal of knowledge. A king, a general, a visionary. A man with as much determination and loyalty as courage. Yes. . .he would be a great prize indeed.  
  
Imhotep shuddered at that, wondering briefly if he was protecting the wrong person. But no. No, this was where he was needed. Whatever was in store for Ardeth, he was what he was. A warrior, a king, a general, a visionary. A man who faced impossible situations in the past, and survived. Imhotep's place was here. Celia Ferguson broke the hom-dai, and gave him back his freedom, gave him back his soul. It was only right that he protect her with his life.  
  
. . .  
  
Rick O'Connell did really not like this place. In fact, he hated it more and more as the moments passed. He hadn't decided yet what was more un-nerving to him. . .this place. The way this place changed just in the last few hours. Evy's obvious unease. . .Miss 'Whatever Harm Came From' herself. Or. . .or maybe it was Ardeth's expression. Rick had known Ardeth for. . .hell. Seven, eight years now? And he never saw that anxious, slightly sick look on his friend's face before.  
  
Worse yet, Ardeth couldn't explain what troubled him so much. He didn't know. Just a feeling. And that *really* scared Rick. He felt evil before, of course. He saw evil. But not even Hamunaptra made him feel like this. His skin was crawling, like a thousand little bugs were swarming over his body. Bugs. . .or maybe scarabs. Rick shuddered again, and Ardeth said into the now-oppressive silence, "I do not know, ya ahi. I have never seen such. . .things before. I. . ." He gestured helplessly, in a decidedly un-Ardeth manner.  
  
There was a time, not so long ago, when such an answer would have resulted in Rick slamming Ardeth into a wall, or worse. When he would have lashed out because Ardeth didn't have the answers he wanted or needed. Right now, though, even without remembering what might have been, Rick hadn't the desire or the energy to lash out at Ardeth. All of his energy was going into fighting the nameless terror that crept over him.  
  
Evy said, as if to redirect attention away from Ardeth, "You know. . .in the Legacy, Celia knew of people who had the Sight. Who would get flashes of the future. They wouldn't know what those flashes of vision meant, because they were like patchwork on a quilt." Rick looked over at his wife, briefly fed-up with talk of the Legacy. Evy wasn't exactly the most objective person on the subject.  
  
Then he shook his head. He had no room to talk. Even mention the name of Lock-nah in Rick's presence, and all he could see was Ardeth's battered, tortured body in his mind's eye. That monster almost killed his best friend. . .not something Rick would forgive any time soon. How could he protest against Evy being equally protective of her own best friend? Especially when those idiots almost destroyed everything?  
  
"I remember her mentioning that, Evy. What are you saying? Are you getting these flashes?" Ardeth asked, and it was almost a relief. Not just because Rick was also wondering what was going on in his wife's pretty, complicated head. . .but because Ardeth's voice held curiosity, rather than the fear they were all feeling. Curiosity, he could deal with. Ardeth Bey being as afraid as he himself was. . .that was a whole 'nother story.  
  
"Jonathan did. Remember his dreams? He saw a huge, lidless red eye. It was. . .red like fire. A blazing eye, he called it. And he saw an old man. . .ancient. Not like Imhotep. . .this man was more frightening than Imhotep. Jonathan couldn't tell me how he knew this. Just that this man made Imhotep, at his worst, look like a Sunday school teacher by comparison," Evy explained. She shuddered, then added, "Then, just now, I saw a man. An old man, with long white hair and a white beard. I couldn't understand what he was saying. . .but it wasn't good."  
  
The three looked at each other, Rick saying softly, "I say we get the hell out of here. Forget about the Med-jai guarding this place. . .just get back to Tiri, get as much C-4 or whatever explosives you guys use, and blow this to kingdom come." The unease was worse now. Now, it almost felt like. . .it felt like it did when Khaldun took control of his body outside Hamunaptra. Rick cringed at the memory of that day, two years earlier.  
  
They were on their way into the ancient, cursed city to rescue Miranda from Imhotep, Khaldun, and the Legacy when Khaldun decided he would split the rescue team by taking over Rick's body. It didn't last long. Less time than Khaldun managed to inhabit Ardeth's body. Just long enough to make him realize that he didn't like being used. . .and to find out that pissing off Celia Ferguson was a really BAD idea.  
  
"I am inclined to agree with you, my friend. . .that is my initial instinct as well. However, it will not be as easy as you might suspect. These caves. . .they are sacred to the Med-jai. It was in these caves that my ancestor first set eyes on Tiri. . .what would become Tiri, at least. I am the Med-jai chieftain, but I am as bound to the rules of our people as anyone," Ardeth replied. There was a pleading note in Ardeth's voice that hurt Rick's heart to hear.  
  
Because, of course, he knew Ardeth was right. This was sacred ground to the Med-jai. Rick pushed back the whispers in his mind, the whispers that told him that Ardeth was risking Rick's family. Rick would do whatever was necessary to protect his family, and if he hurt Ardeth in the process, so what? This invader, they didn't know that Ardeth *was* family. It took Rick almost losing his friend. . .twice. . .to understand that. But now, Rick would protect Ardeth just as fiercely as he protected Evy, Alex, and Nefertiri. That was part of the understanding created with Celia. Part of the reason they didn't get along for such a long time, was because they were so much alike in some ways.  
  
"Then we convince them that we'll only blow up enough to seal the caves forever. Make sure no one ever comes in here, and whatever the hell is in here can get out," Rick suggested. The voices were becoming more insidious now, harder to fight. They were whispering to him that Ardeth wouldn't go peacefully, that Rick would have to fight him to get him out. It was so very tempting. To just slug his friend, and drag his ass out of here forcibly.  
  
"Aywa. . .yes, that is a far more feasible plan," Ardeth agreed almost feverishly. What was he trying to pull? Rick shook his head. No. . .no, Ardeth wasn't trying to pull anything. Someone was trying to turn him against his best friend. . .the best friend he ever had, or would ever have. The only man he would ever want as a brother. *You can't have me,* he told the invader in the silence of his mind, *you can't have me. I won't let that happen.*  
  
"You think we could do that? Set off a small explosion, just enough to seal the cave's entrance?" Evy asked hopefully, her dark eyes flickering from Rick to Ardeth and back again. The invader breathed, *She's in love with him, you fool. She's always been in love with him. She only chose you because he's married to her best friend.* Lies. All lies. Rick shook his head, drawing Evy's attention. She asked, "Rick, what is it?"  
  
"We have to get out of here. . .something. . .inside my head. Lying. Saying you're in love with Ardeth. Telling me to hurt Ardeth," Rick ground out. He thought he said it. Evy was just staring at him, as if waiting for an answer, and the bottom fell out of Rick's stomach. Oh God. He was losing control of his own body now. He remembered his fight with Khaldun in the living room of Rick's house. . .Khaldun, in Ardeth's body.  
  
"Evelyn. . ." Ardeth began, then doubled over. A half second after that, Rick realized with horror it was because he. . .Rick. . .had punched the other man hard in the stomach. His friend. Oh God. No. No, no, no. This wasn't happening! He closed his eyes, shaking his head desperately. This had to be some awful nightmare. This couldn't be happening! He would open his eyes, and. . .  
  
And everything was the same. Ardeth was still hunched over, his hand pressed to his gut. There was a wariness in Ardeth's dark eyes, and Rick willed his friend to know it wasn't him. But even as the thought made itself known, Rick felt his fist connect hard with Ardeth's jaw, throwing him to the ground. Evy screamed, and Rick echoed that scream in his mind as his foot slammed hard into Ardeth's side.  
  
Was this how Ardeth felt when Khaldun violated him in the desert? How Jason felt when he confronted the evil spirit. . .was this how he felt when he threw the knife into Ardeth's side, and faced off with his sister? Perhaps not, because only a moment later, the invasive presence was gone from his mind. Rick's head felt like it was packed with cotton, but he was free. He shook his head, trying desperately to clear it.  
  
Evy screamed again. Ardeth, still on the ground, was being pulled toward the two towers by a rope of flame wrapped tightly around his ankle. Those two towers, Rick discovered to his horror, were a portal. On the other side of that portal was an old man.  
  
The man wasn't just old. He was ancient. With long white hair. . .a white beard. . .a cruel smile. And even crueler eyes. This was the man who used him. . .who invaded him. Rick almost felt sick, because in that moment, he understood. He was being used, not just to hurt Ardeth. . .but to help this sick bastard capture him. And if Rick didn't move his ass, now, he would lose his friend.  
  
O'Connell didn't lose any more time. He threw himself protectively over Ardeth, yelling hoarsely, "NO! You can't have him!" Rick wrapped his arms around Ardeth's waist, hearing his friend groan. He'd bruised some of Ardeth's ribs. . .maybe even broken some of them. Dammit. But that didn't loosen his hold. This. . .this. . .this. . . *thing* used him. It made him hurt Ardeth, Terumun showed him, in order to shatter Ardeth's concentration.  
  
The betrayal of a friend cuts deeply, and Ardeth's focus was on Rick, instead of watching his back. Rick wasn't watching his back, because he was too focused on keeping that presence out of his mind. And Evy. . .Evy was too shocked by his attack on Ardeth to. . . For the second time in ten minutes, Rick's attention was shattered as Evy screamed. The American looked up as a bolt of lightning from the portal knocked Evy backward.  
  
That was all the evil man on the other side needed. With Rick distracted, Ardeth was physically jerked out of his arms. Fighting every step of the way, but what else did one expect from Ardeth Bey? The last thing Rick O'Connell heard, as his friend, his brother, his chieftain, was dragged through the portal was Ardeth's cry of pain. Stoic, stubborn Ardeth, who once braved days of tortures and beatings to protect his pregnant wife, was screaming in pain.  
  
"No," Rick whispered hoarsely, reaching out to the closed portal. Then Evy was at his side, pulling him into her arms, and sobbing helplessly. Ardeth was lost to them. There was nothing more they could do. Rick whispered, "No," even as he wrapped his arms around his wife. He was crying, too, he realized. But it didn't matter. He rasped out around his tears, "What are we gonna do, Evy? What are we gonna do? How do we explain this to Celia?"  
  
Evelyn Carnahan O'Connell, the woman who faced Imhotep twice, who risked her life to save Rick. . .the woman who made his life complete, could only whisper, "I don't know, Rick. I don't know. But we'll get him back. I promise. . .we'll get Ardeth back." Rick pulled away from his wife, away from the comforting crook between her shoulder and her neck. Evy's dark eyes blazed with determination as she repeated, "We'll get Ardeth back. . .and then we'll kick that sorry old bastard's arse for taking him away in the first place!" 


	4. Encounter in Fangorn Forest

Sailor Elf: (laughs) Yeah, that's definitely you! And not to worry. . .Saruman will pay for what he did to Ardeth. Promise.  
  
Part Three  
  
He fell through dirt, he fell through fire, he fell through ice. Dirt tearing at his flesh, fire burning his soul, ice freezing his heart. His mind spun with confusion. Why did O'Connell attack him? Ardeth tried to focus, tried to think, but he was dizzy. Not just from the blow to his jaw, but from his freefall through the elements. There was darkness, something he vaguely realized a split second before he hit the ground with a resounding thud.  
  
Ardeth groaned, his already aching body protesting this further mistreatment. For a split second more, he wondered if he was dead, then dismissed that possibility. He couldn't possibly be dead, and be in this much pain. The young man raised his head shakily. With everything he saw and experienced during his short lifetime, it wouldn't have surprised Ardeth in the least to discover that he was in Hell. . .or the Underworld.  
  
However, if this was the Underworld. . .it was the strangest representation of the Underworld he could have imagined. The darkness he noticed before hitting the ground was, in fact, night. Wherever he was. . .it was night. And the night air was chilly. As it was in the desert. He didn't recognize the star patterns, but he did see a moon in the sky. That was. . . encouraging. He hoped. He thought it was encouraging, at least. If he was alive, and he was not in the Underworld, that was at least a step in the right direction.  
  
First rule, when a warrior was in unfamiliar surroundings, was to take stock of where he was. Ardeth's eyes were adjusting to the dark, for while it was dark in the cave before he was taken, it was also afternoon. Daylight streamed into the caverns, making a torch un-necessary. He wondered how much time passed since he was taken. Was it night in Egypt? Then Ardeth shook his head.  
  
He couldn't think about Egypt right now, though he wanted to go home. If he thought about Egypt, he would think about Celia and the children. He would struggle not to rage against whatever fate took him from that cave only hours after he returned home for the first time in weeks. Ardeth *knew* he couldn't afford to think about any of that. If he did, he would only end up getting himself killed through his own stupidity.  
  
So. He knew it was night. And as he looked around, he realized that he wasn't in a desert of any kind. Instead, it looked like he was in a forest. A land of greenery, like England, or parts of the United States. Ardeth chose not to think about his last (and only) visit to England. Instead, he recalled his time in the unnatural oasis of Ahm Shere. Rick questioned at one point if he heard that, not specifying what 'that' was. Ardeth asked what, and Rick explained, 'nothing. Absolutely nothing.' The expression in the American's eyes told Ardeth that the silence was anything but natural.  
  
This place was far from silent. Until now, he never heard crickets chirping, except when he listened to one of the nature CD's Celia used to help her sleep when he wasn't there. That was the only way he recognized the sound he now heard. *So far, so good,* he thought, unconsciously echoing something he heard his wife say a thousand times. Nothing indicated to him that he was in imminent danger. . .although those trees on the opposite side seemed somewhat ominous to him. He didn't understand why.  
  
Instead, Ardeth next turned his attention to everything that happened during the last few hours. . .or however his freefall through the elements lasted. First, O'Connell attacked him in the cave. . .then, when he was being dragged into that portal, the other man grabbed him. Screamed at whatever had him, 'You can't have him.' Was he being controlled in the beginning, and that was why he attacked Ardeth? The Med-jai hoped that was the reason. It was a reasonable explanation. Unfortunately, it only explained a little.  
  
There was still the matter of *how* he got here, and *why* he was here. Ardeth firmly believed that everything happened for a reason. The wind changed direction, and Ardeth caught a scent of. . .something. Grateful to be alive, and to be able to focus on something other than the pain, on something other than his confusion and Rick's unprovoked attack, the chieftain concentrated on that whiff. . .then his blood ran cold.  
  
He knew that smell. It was the smell of death. The chieftain reached for his scimitar, fighting back a second groan of pain as his ribs protested the movement. And any pain was forgotten a moment later when he heard sounds of battle only a short distance away. Focusing now on the battle, Ardeth moved quietly and swiftly through the brush, trying to ignore the unease that stirred in his soul when he looked at the forest on the opposite side.  
  
That particular fight was won when he beheld the battle. Men on horses were fighting men on foot. However, the men on foot weren't men at all, but demons from hell. They reminded him a bit of the pygmy mummy skeletons in the oasis of Ahm Shere. . .only much larger. Ardeth's hand tightened around his scimitar, which remained in its sheath. That only lasted another moment, when he saw one of the demons pursuing two children.  
  
That was all he needed to see. He didn't need to know who was fighting whom, for what reason, or what the issues were. The only thing he needed to know was that children were in danger. Ardeth started running, ignoring the nagging pain in his side. Cracked ribs, definitely, and possibly worse, but he would worry about that later. The two children tripped, and it looked like one of them cracked his head on a stone.  
  
The demon was almost upon them, when Ardeth gave a hoarse war cry, and charged him. The demon was knocked off-balance by the attack, and Ardeth placed himself between it and the children. This was something he knew, something he understood. . .whatever else confused, or even frightened him. . .he was still a warrior, still a protector. He called over his shoulder, not even sure if the two children would understand him, "RUN!"  
  
"You would be better served to protect yourself, man-thing. We *like* man flesh," the demon hissed as Ardeth parried his thrust. All right. That answered that question, though Ardeth would worry about what it meant later. For now, the Med-jai concentrated on the fight at hand. Ardeth spun away from the demon, lashing out with a kick. The demon stumbled back a few steps, growling in fury as the Med-jai's booted foot connected with his face. Ardeth back-pedaled, risking another look over his shoulder, to make sure the children were safely away. Only to find. . .they weren't children at all.  
  
It was another shock, one of many for a small amount of time, and Ardeth's guard dropped. It was a moment that cost him dearly, as pain seared his body. His opponent used his inattention to slide a blade into Ardeth's stomach. The Med-jai bit back a cry of pain, and instead, took the opportunity he was given to slice off the demon's head. The children who weren't children at all hurried toward him, and he tried to tell them to run, but dizziness washed over him. For a moment, Ardeth was genuinely afraid he would pass out, then a small hand seized his free hand. The contact gave Ardeth the strength he needed to fight the dizziness.  
  
"Quick! Int' the woods! I dunno who ya are, but c'mon!" a voice said, and the owner of the voice began dragging Ardeth along by his hand. He reminded Ardeth, in some ways, of Alex O'Connell. Now they both had hold of Ardeth's hands, and they weren't letting go. The one who spoke initially muttered something Ardeth couldn't understand, then said, "Int' the woods, c'mon! We can't let him stay out there, Merry! We can't let 'im die!"  
  
Merry didn't answer. He was too busy dragging Ardeth into the woods. They got into the shelter provided by the trees, and Ardeth's legs gave out. He simply couldn't go any further. And when he collapsed, he almost took the two small people with him. Up close, he could see that while they were, indeed, young, they were also adults. Small adults, but adults nonetheless. Pointed little ears stuck up through hair, making them look almost elven.  
  
"I dunno who ya are, or where ya came from," the small one called 'Merry' said, "but we're real grateful. I think ya saved our lives just now. My name is Meriadoc, and this is my cousin Peregrine. That nasty orc hurt ya bad. Pip, check the wound. Ya remember what happened to Frodo." The second one, Pip, paled, but at the same time, he nodded. Whatever happened to this Frodo, it obviously wasn't good.  
  
Ardeth closed his eyes, willing his head to stop spinning. He was exhausted, his body ached, his head throbbed in concert with his body, and he had no idea of where he was. The one called 'Pip' carefully opened Ardeth's robes, and the Med-jai was too exhausted to stop him. He barely managed a weak smile as Pip reported, "It doesn't look like Frodo's after he was stabbed. Who do ya suppose he is, Merry? Maybe he's related to Strider? Kinda looks like him."  
  
Ardeth had no idea whom this Strider was, but he said in the strongest voice he could manage, "My name is Ardeth Bey. I am chieftain of the Med-jai. . .and I am a very long way from home." That much he was sure about. He most certainly wasn't in Egypt any longer, nor was he even in North Africa. Right now, he wasn't even sure if he was on the same planet. None of the stars looked familiar to him.  
  
"Ardeth. That's a nice name. Unusual," Pip began, but his cousin quickly shushed him. Ardeth immediately picked up on Merry's fear. He forced his eyes open and looked around. Pip was whispering, ignoring his cousin's silencing motions, "I'll not leave him, Merry, I'll not leave him. We left Boromir, and he's probably dead, I won't let Ardeth die, too!" Ardeth had no idea whom this Boromir was, but his instinct was, Boromir sacrificed himself to save Merry and Pip.  
  
Which meant Ardeth couldn't allow that sacrifice to be in vain. He whispered, all too aware that his voice was lacking its normal strength, "Listen to me. I am a warrior. I can battle these demons. . .these orcs, as you called them." Demons seemed a more fitting name for what he just battled, demons from his worst nightmares as a child. Ardeth continued, desperate to make his small companions understand, "You must run, if you are to honor Boromir's memory."  
  
The cousins looked at each other, as if they thought exactly the opposite. Their eyes said the same thing. They felt small and helpless, and if they left him to die alone, they would be no better than cowards. Ardeth understand that mindset. His wife was like that in some ways. It was hard for her to let him go, and do what had to be done. When they were captured by Lock-nah and Nizam Toth, the only thing that kept her from crying out was her desire to protect Andreas. And as she ran things through in her mind, she realized it was also her best way of protecting Ardeth from further harm.  
  
The Med-jai was running out of energy, and he needed to save the energy he had to defend these two against the demons who were even now entering this strange forest. It was time for him to act, now before he lost whatever remaining strength he had. Ardeth was always better at fighting than at talking. He shuddered, hearing strange noises. The forest almost felt alive, and Ardeth found that frightening as well.  
  
Even so, he spared enough energy to repeat, "Boromir thought you were worthy of the sacrifice. Thought you were worth dying for. You cannot allow that to be in vain. Sometimes, running is the most honorable thing to do." It had nothing to do with cowardice. It was possible that these two small beings were warriors, that they were trained in combat. But he doubted it. Neither was dressed in a manner suitable for warriors. Their clothing was too constricting. Evelyn could fight in a dress. . .but it wasn't wise to do so. The skirt restricted her range of motion. Just as Pip and Merry's clothes did.  
  
There was a crash of wood, and the stench of death was back. It was only a matter of moments before they were discovered, and everything would start over once more. Ardeth mouthed, "GO!" once more, and this time, Merry pulled his cousin away. Pip was staring at him, a stricken expression in his eyes. Ardeth waited, gathering his strength. And then, as the demon-orc crashed through the forest, the Med-jai attacked.  
  
The orc parried the attack, kicking out with one foot. The kick connected with Ardeth's already injured ribs, but the Med-jai managed to stay on his feet. Instead, he responded with a kick of his own, the tip of his boot catching the orc under the chin and snapping his head backward. The orc wasn't so easily defeated, however, and unleashed a series of attacks with his sword that Ardeth parried.  
  
He was running out of energy, running out of blood, running out of options, running out of time. And Ardeth wasn't sure if he bought the little ones enough time to get away. Again, the orc rushed him, but this time, instead of trying to parry the thrust, Ardeth stepped out of the way. It was then that things took another strange turn. Ardeth, who was no stranger to strange, nonetheless watched in shock as the orc was crushed under a tree.  
  
That wasn't the surprising part. What was surprising was that the tree was walking. And talking. Talking trees. Talking trees which crushed orcs under their feet? Roots? Ardeth wondered if he totally lost it, until the smashed body of the orc was visible once more. No. He most definitely wasn't dreaming this. Ardeth blinked, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do next, when he noticed Merry and Pip in the clutches of the tree that just killed the orc.  
  
The two little ones were screaming in pain and fear, and Ardeth knew what he had to do. Raising his scimitar high, the Med-jai cried, "Let them go! They are no threat to you!" That honestly wasn't something he knew for certain, but when he saw them running away from the orcs, they became Ardeth's responsibility. Now they were screaming his name. Ardeth heard them as if they were far away.  
  
He lost a lot of blood. Abdominal wounds had the potential to be fatal, especially left untreated. But Ardeth Bey didn't know how to give up. It simply wasn't in him. When he was a child, it was to make his father proud of him. When he was a teenager, it was because someone had to protect his family, and Andreas was more interested in the trappings of power than in the responsibilities he carried. Then Andreas was killed, and Ardeth found himself with those same responsibilities.  
  
Now, he didn't have just those responsibilities. The responsibilities that came with being chieftain to twelve tribes, and thousands of warriors. King, general, visionary, as Celia said more than once. He also had a wife and two children. Celia, Miranda, Andreas. His mother. Acacia and Altair. Rick and Evy, Jonathan and Beni. Alex, Darius and Damara. Terrence. Uncle Nassor. Monifa. He wanted to see them again. He didn't have time to savor his reunion with Celia, and if he died, he wouldn't get that chance. Ardeth knew he would be reincarnated, and eventually reunited with Celia in their new lives. . .but he wanted this life. He would fight for this life. That meant he couldn't give up. He forced himself forward. . .  
  
One of the small ones called his name. . .screamed his name. He heard the tree say something about taking them to the white wizard. Then something caught Ardeth hard across his chest, slamming him backward. Ardeth's head struck the trunk of another tree, and his abused body began shutting down. Merry and Pip continued to scream his name, long after Ardeth slid into unconsciousness. Ardeth Bey never gave up without a fight. . .but this time, there was no fight left in his body.  
  
. . .  
  
Meriadoc Brandybuck stared in horror, no longer noticed the pain in his body caused by the tree's grip. He just met Ardeth. . .but the man tried to save them. Tried to protect them, first from the orcs, then from the trees. Merry saw the blood. He knew Ardeth was hurt, badly hurt, while he was protecting them. Just like Boromir. And now, he lay so still against the tree where he was flung. Merry's cousin screamed 'no!' as Ardeth's body went limp. Merry heard Ardeth's head crack against the wood, and feared for his new friend.  
  
He didn't know where Ardeth came from. Didn't know the first thing about him. He looked a bit like the Easterlings they whispered about in the Shire. But there was no way that someone in service to Sauron would have stood against the orcs to protect him and Pippin. No way at all. In addition, Pippin had a point. Ardeth did look a bit like Strider, with his long black hair and neatly kept beard.  
  
But Ardeth was unconscious, or dead, and they had no idea where Strider was. And now, the walking, talking tree was taking them to the white wizard. Saruman. He was the white wizard. Merry shuddered in the tree's grasp, turning away from the bright, white light which shone from the figure in the woods. The tree said in its deep, rumbling, rolling voice, "I have brought you these little orcs, white wizard."  
  
Merry tensed, ready to fight if he had the chance. But when the white wizard spoke, it was in a voice that Merry found very familiar. He said, "They are not orcs, Treebeard. They are hobbits. . .halflings." Merry would have rolled his eyes, but he didn't want the white wizard to see him, and turn him into anything. . .un-natural. He had no way of knowing it, of course, but that was exactly what Samwise Gamgee said when Gandalf caught him outside Bags End.  
  
The tree called 'Treebeard' dropped them both, and Merry yelped in spite of himself. The light around the white wizard dimmed, just a little bit, and without meaning to, Merry looked up. . .and up. Right into a face he thought he would never see again. A gentle smile graced the countenance of the white wizard's face. The air left Merry's lungs in a rush, but it was Pippin who cried out in joy, "GANDALF!"  
  
Before Merry could stop him, his impulsive cousin was pushing himself to his feet and flying into Gandalf's arms. The new white wizard looked a little startled, but not upset. Which was a very good thing. Gandalf, angry, was *not* a pretty sight. The white wizard closed his arms around Pippin, smiling as the young hobbit rabbited on about being so happy to see him. Merry was, as well. . .he and Pippin both wept helplessly after Gandalf was pulled into the ravine. He, and Pippin, Sam, and Frodo.  
  
But right now, there was someone else who needed their help. Someone who would have sacrificed his life to protect the young halflings. And Merry was determined that he get that help. The older cousin said, "Gandalf, we're both so glad to see you. But there's someone who needs us. He tried to protect us from the orcs, tried to protect us from the trees. Maybe you can save him. . .?" Merry let his voice trail off.  
  
After all, Gandalf was a wizard, not necessarily a healer. But Merry had to ask. His last sight of Boromir was their friend on his knees, badly wounded. Probably even dying, his body pierced with so many arrows. He didn't want his last sight of Ardeth to be slumped against the trunk of that tree, helpless as his life's blood ran out of his body. He had to ask. He couldn't help Boromir, but there was a chance he could help Ardeth.  
  
Gandalf looked at him gravely, answering, "I can make no promises. . .but I shall see what I can do for this man who tried to protect you." Merry scrambled to his feet then, and led Gandalf, Pippin, and the tree he now knew as Treebeard back to the warrior from far away. He was still alive, Merry realized as they arrived, for his chest still rose and fell. But he was very pale under his bronzed skin, and his eyes were closed.  
  
Gandalf knelt beside Ardeth, murmuring words that Merry didn't understand. Then he said something very curious. The white wizard murmured, "Oh, my young brother. . .it was you whom I touched in my travels. Saruman brought you here. . .for what reason, I know not. But he will not have you." The wizard turned back to the two hobbits, saying, "I can help him, but I will need the others. For now, you must go with Treebeard. He will look after you."  
  
As he spoke, he gently gathered Ardeth in his arms, cradling him against his chest. Their new protector's head lolled in the crook of Gandalf's elbow, then fell forward. His black hair obscured his face, and in that moment, he looked like a child. Merry wanted to protest. He didn't want to be looked after, like some helpless child. He wanted to help. . .he could help take care of Ardeth, until the others. . .whoever they were. . .arrived. He knew it wasn't Frodo or Sam. They were going to Mordor. Boromir was most likely dead. Merry's instincts told him that it was the three remaining members of the Fellowship. . .and he wanted to see them again.  
  
But Gandalf looked at him with that Look. The one which said not to bother protesting, because the matter was decided. Even so, there was only gentleness in his voice when he said, "I promise you, Meriadoc Brandybuck. I will take care of this young warrior. His wound is not like Frodo's when Arwen arrived with him. It will not require elven magic to heal. And it was Saruman who brought this young man here, from his own world, against his will. In a way, that makes this boy my responsibility."  
  
"His name is Ardeth," Pippin added, "Ardeth Bey, and he said that he was a long way from home. Chieftain of the Med-jai, whatever that means. Does he have a family, d'ye suppose?" One of Treebeard's branches was curling around Merry's waist once more, but much more gently this time. Merry still didn't know what connection there was between Treebeard and Gandalf. . .for that matter, he still wasn't sure how Gandalf survived.  
  
The white wizard looked at Pippin and replied, "Oh, he does have a family. We shared a journey, this young man and I. I saw into his soul, and he girded me for battle. He has a family. A wife, and children. A mother and sisters, a brother. As I said, Saruman brought him here against his will, and he used the body of a friend to do it. He brought Ardeth Bey here to be a tool, a pawn. That will not be allowed."  
  
Merry knew Gandalf for almost his entire life, but never before did he hear such coldness from the ancient wizard. The Gandalf whom he knew was serious and focused when needed, but he could be just as mischievous as any hobbit. He enjoyed creating fireworks for the children of the Shire. And Merry remembered. . .during the battles inside the mines, Gandalf's eyes gleamed with a feral joy when they faced off with the goblins and the cave troll.  
  
This Gandalf, however, was something. . .someone. . .entirely new. He died, and returned. Merry never thought about it much, but for the first time, he wondered if it would be hard, coming back to life after being dead. Especially dying as he did, with the Balrog's rope of flame around his ankle. He didn't realize that he spoke aloud, until Gandalf said quietly, "Look here. The rope of flame was used to pull him into this world. And he fought every step of the way." There was a note of quiet, but fierce, pride in his voice.  
  
Merry leaned over to see what Gandalf was indicating. Sure enough, there was a burn on Ardeth's boot. Circular. Merry's blood ran cold. Saruman brought him here, for his own purposes. Gandalf murmured, "If you wished for a mirror in darkness to Aragorn, old friend, you failed miserably." There was a bitterness, a contempt in his voice when he spoke the word 'friend.' Merry wondered what he meant about a mirror in darkness to Strider.  
  
Gandalf looked up and met Merry's eyes straight on. He said quietly as Ardeth moaned softly, sounding pained even unconscious, "You must go now. Both of you, you must go with Treebeard now. I will take care of him. . .save his life, if I can. He has been brought to our world against his will, but I cannot return him to his own yet. If Saruman was allowed to bring him here, bring him into a fight that is not his, there must be a reason for it. For now, you must remain with Treebeard. Trust me."  
  
Merry wanted to trust him. This was Gandalf, after all. But Gandalf was different now. And he no longer knew this Gandalf. Treebeard made the decision for him, lifting him and Pippin in the air. Merry cried out, "No! No, let us say good-bye to him!" There wasn't that chance with Boromir. Again, Merry felt like weeping. It was one blow right after another. First there was Gandalf's presumed death, then Frodo's departure. Merry flinched, remembering the desperation in the eyes of his long-time friend. Boromir and his sacrifice. So many arrows. But yet, Boromir continued to fight. And now. . .now, there was Ardeth.  
  
Gandalf hesitated, then nodded. Treebeard eased them back down to the ground. It made no sense, Merry knew. They just met Ardeth this night, and their acquaintance was only for a few hours. But. . .he *had* to say good-bye. Treebeard released them both, and Merry ran over to the wizard and the warrior. Gandalf carefully lowered Ardeth, until Merry and Pippin could look into his face. Ardeth was still unconscious and growing paler by the moment.  
  
Pippin always found words easier, and he gently touched Ardeth's hair, murmuring, "Gandalf has you now. . .he'll take good care of you. Thank you, Ardeth, for saving our lives." The warrior shouldn't have heard them, but dark eyes were briefly visible. Merry almost cried, seeing the agony in those eyes. Pippin gave Ardeth a brave smile, then stepped back, back into Treebeard's waiting grasp.  
  
It was Merry's turn. He was no good with words. But he took one of Ardeth's hands, now trailing at the warrior's side, and held it tightly. Merry whispered, "If anyone can make you better, it's Gandalf. If I never get to see you again. . .I'm glad we met you. I'm glad you were here when we needed you." He released Ardeth's hand, then stepped back. He looked at Gandalf and nodded. He was ready now. . .if ready was ever a possibility.  
  
. . .  
  
Once the hobbits were safely away, the white wizard turned his attention back to the young man in his arms. His name was Ardeth Bey, chieftain to a group of tribes in a future version of this world. He was, in truth, the same age as the two young hobbits who just left, though Men aged at a much different rate than hobbits. And he believed he already knew why Saruman was allowed to reach forward into the future for this young man.  
  
Elrond said that he was there, three millennia ago, when Men's strength failed. The truth was, he was there when *one* man's strength failed. Yes, Men could be weak and they could be greedy. But they could also be very strong. He knew of such men, though he could not yet remember their names. But he did know that the young man now cradled in his arms was very strong indeed. He knew this already.  
  
He passed through the fire and the flame. Tested, time after time after time. A young man of quiet strength and extraordinary skill with a blade. One who was not easily surprised or shocked by the unfamiliar or the unknown. Their contact during their journey said as much. The white wizard (for he did not think of himself as Gandalf, despite the hobbits' words) knew much about Ardeth Bey, though they had not yet conversed. For instance, he knew how old he was. . .how old he was when he lost his father, how old he was when he became leader to a small nation of people.  
  
He knew that Ardeth's queen was a young woman named 'Celia.' He knew that she was twenty-nine years old, and that Ardeth trusted her implicitly to carry on without him. He knew that there were two children. . .six year old Miranda and thirteen month old Andreas. And most of all, he knew that while Ardeth wanted to go home. . .he would not stop until the fight was done. That, perhaps, was the true reason Saruman was allowed to succeed.  
  
Regardless. Ardeth Bey was now his responsibility. The white wizard carried him to safety, and opened his robes. The first thing he noticed was that the young man had countless scars over his torso and shoulders. He winced in sympathy. After being tortured by Saruman at Isengard, then the most recent experience, he was sure he had several scars of his own. Right now, it was the newest wound that caused him the greatest concern.  
  
His first priorities were to stop the bleeding and make sure the wound didn't become infected. Ardeth moaned, his head moving from side to side, and the wizard immediately stopped what he was doing. Concerned, he reached forward and brushed his knuckles across the young man's forehead. This wasn't good. Not in the least. He was already hot with fever, and it would get worse before it got better.  
  
The others were coming. They would be here by morning. He knew this. He just didn't know if it was soon enough to save Ardeth's life. The white wizard murmured, "Be strong, young warrior. Remember the strength you showed while protecting your wife and unborn child. Remember the courage she herself showed in keeping silent, when she longed to scream in protest. Hold onto that. Your queen has never failed you, and she will see you through this."  
  
"Celia," came the whispered answer. It was not just a name, but a prayer. Ardeth gave a soft sigh, and the wizard realized that he was deeply unconscious this time. It was not a bad thing, though it could be interpreted as such. Ardeth wasn't giving up. He was still fighting. But he was choosing to trust the wizard, though he wasn't aware of it. The white wizard removed his hand from the warrior's forehead.  
  
And instead, he chose to grip the boy's shoulder, murmuring, "I shan't betray your trust in me, Ardeth. Rest now, and I will do what I can." He got down to work, then. As a wizard, and as a long-time ally of the elves, he picked up knowledge about healing. He knew what herbs could clean out a wound when no clean water was available. He also knew about packing a wound, to keep it from bleeding further.  
  
As the night passed, he moved on to finding herbs that would help bring Ardeth's fever down. He felt no concern about leaving the young man alone for a few hours. The trees would watch over him. . .now that they knew the white wizard trusted him, they would allow no harm to come to Ardeth. They would destroy anything. . .and anyone. . . that attempted to attack him.  
  
Slowly, night began to give way to morning, and the wizard continued to work. The stab wound wasn't the only injury, though it was the one causing the most concern. When Treebeard lashed out at the steadfast warrior, slamming him into the trunk of another tree, he also left bruises over much of Ardeth's body.  
  
He had broken ribs, though from Treebeard's attack, or the attack Saruman launched through Ardeth's friend O'Connell, he knew not. There was some bruising on his belly, definitely from the latter, and the wizard even now felt the young warrior's confusion about the attack. He would tell the boy everything, once he was capable of understanding. He needed to know that his friend didn't attack him willingly, though the other man had a history of doing just that. The wizard knew men like that. The late Boromir was one of them.  
  
He was a good man, though frail like all Men. He acted out of fear, out of not understanding. Out of a very true wish to protect his home and family. O'Connell was the same way. . .sometimes, too, that wish blinded him to the harm he did to other members of that family. But O'Connell wasn't his concern right now. He was in his own world, and though he would soon face the fury of the young queen, he was safe enough.  
  
The wizard stopped at that, thinking with a trace of his old humor, just how foolish a thought *that* was. Women could be truly dangerous, he knew well. Arwen could be just as dangerous as either of her brothers. . .or Aragorn, when it came to that. And from Ardeth's memories, Gandalf also knew that Celia Ferguson Bey could be a truly dangerous when she was of a mind to be. Where her husband's safety, and the safety of her children, was concerned, Celia Bey would never take prisoners.  
  
Once Ardeth was stable, the wizard took time to rest. The whispering of the trees would alert him when the others were here. His memories were coming back slowly. He knew of Boromir's death, because he learned of it during his own journey from death to rebirth. But he was still remembering the names of the others. He remembered Elrond, and Arwen. He remembered Merry and Pippin, Frodo and Sam.  
  
Gollum. Saruman. Isengard. Bilbo. Galadriel. Boromir. Sauron. But the names of the last three members of the Fellowship remained shrouded, and the wizard realized with more than a touch of resignation that it would remain so. It would remain so, until he met up with them once more. And so, he rested beside his young brother. . .who was actually more like a multiple great-grandson in terms of age. But they both passed through fire and ice, to emerge on the other side. That made them brothers. And though he was only a little past thirty years, the wizard knew that Ardeth was much older than his physical years implied.  
  
He rested until the trees whispered of the new intruders. They came into the forest, carrying bows and arrows, swords and axes. The wizard rose to his feet, checking on Ardeth again. He remained asleep, he was still unconscious. The trees whispered that they would keep watch on him. . .the newcomers frightened them, with their weapons and their anger. The trees could feel their anger. . .just as the elf could feel the anger of the trees.  
  
It was time then. He reached down and pulled the blanket of leaves up over Ardeth's still form, pausing just long enough to squeeze his shoulder again. Then he picked up his staff. This coming confrontation had the potential to turn nasty. He knew that. He knew that the elf would sense his presence, the presence of *a* white wizard. Saruman, now their enemy, was the only white wizard they would know about.  
  
To protect themselves from his sorcery, they would attack first. He had to be ready for that. But he would not harm them. He. . . The wizard cocked his head, frowning thoughtfully. Yes. He loved them. They were his friends once, and they would be so again. He loved them as his children. . .even when he wanted to strangle the ever-talkative Gimli with his own beard. Gimli. The dwarf. Legolas was the elf. And. . .yes. Aragorn. The name he thought earlier. The final member of the Fellowship. The Man. And the king.  
  
Gandalf stilled as that piece of the puzzle fell into place. He understood then, why Saruman kidnapped Ardeth from his own world and brought him here. Ardeth was the chieftain of his people, chieftain of a small nation of warriors and their families. He could also be considered a king. A mirror in darkness to Aragorn. . .the father of a new race of Men, after Saruman was finished torturing him, as the elves were once tortured and reborn as orcs.  
  
The wizard's blue eyes flashed with quiet rage as he picked up his staff. He hissed under his breath as he went to meet his former companions, "You'll find he is not so easily manipulated, *old friend.* For this, I will see you punished. For this, I will allow the boy to do with you as he sees fit!" If, of course, Ardeth survived this long. However, after everything he went through in his life, it was hardly likely that the boy would give up now.  
  
. . .  
  
This could not be happening. The young prince of Mirkwood swallowed hard, trying to swallow his grief and despair. He could not allow his despair to get the better of him. Aragorn needed him to be strong now. The elf prince put his hand on his best friend's shoulder, trying to comfort him. But there was no comfort to be found, not here. Not now. The words of the Rohirrim leader returned to him. No hope.  
  
No. Legolas didn't believe that! Merry and Pippin couldn't be dead! This wasn't the end! Aragorn went very still and Legolas looked at his friend, startled by his change in demeanor. Aragorn rose to his feet, and this time, Legolas looked at Gimli. The elf and the dwarf followed the Man as he quickly retraced a path they almost missed. Followed the trail into the woods, where the trees were alive.  
  
Legolas sensed the anger of the trees, their anger and their wariness. This was a very old forest. Very old, and filled with rage. The trees were whispering to each other, and Legolas realized they were viewed as interlopers here. He also caught something else. 'We must protect him.' Him? Who was this him to whom the trees referred? But he told Aragorn what he was hearing. . .the ancient forest and the anger in the trees. The Man, understanding what he meant, motioned Gimli to lower his ax.  
  
The dwarf did so, looking a bit sheepish. But their nerves were on edge, and they were all feeling the same grief, despair, and hope. . .Gimli put into words what was running through the elf's mind, when they found the belt. We have failed them. But perhaps there was hope yet. The trees relaxed. . .but what they had to say next sent ice through the elf's veins. *The White Wizard comes!*  
  
White Wizard? He repeated this message to Aragorn, and saw an answering fear in the man's gray eyes. The three friends drew together, for protection and for support. Aragorn whispered instructions. . .they were not to look at the White Wizard, or he would put a spell on them. And they would have to move quickly. All of this was breathed, rather than spoken. Aragorn understood the necessity of speaking quietly, when a whisper was too loud.  
  
They struck at once. But it wasn't good enough. The White Wizard was upon them, parrying their attacks with ease. The trio fell to their knees, and their adversary said in a curiously familiar voice, "You came seeking two young hobbits, and followed their trail in here. They were here. . .and they met someone they did not expect. Does that give you comfort?" Legolas frowned. He knew that voice!  
  
The white light surrounding the wizard dimmed, and Legolas found himself looking upon a most familiar, and equally beloved, face. Someone, Legolas wasn't sure which of the three, whispered a name. The wizard frowned, as if confused, then his expression lightened. He said, "Gandalf. . .that is what they called me. Yes. That is my name. Gandalf the Grey, they called me. *I* am Gandalf the White. . .and I return to you now, at the turning of the tide."  
  
Aragorn choked out, "You fell!" Legolas couldn't take his eyes off Mithrandir, not even to look at Aragorn's face. And the ancient wizard's eyes softened. . .not just at the sight of Aragorn's grief and guilt, but at a memory. There was a hint of sadness in the blue eyes. A hint, that spoke to a deep grief. The three of them slowly rose to their feet, none of them able to look away from their presumably-lost friend.  
  
He had died, yes. But his task was not yet complete, the wizard told them. He told them of that final battle with the Balrog, and feeling the life return to his body. Gandalf looked at them seriously, adding, "There is more you need to know. Merry and Pippin didn't enter Fangorn Forest alone. There was an orc who followed them. And one other." With those mysterious words, Gandalf led them away.  
  
And Legolas knew once they reached their destination, and saw this other, he *knew* that this was the 'him' whom the trees spoke of. The 'him' they had to protect. He was young, by the standards of Man or elf. Gimli growled, but Gandalf held him back, replying sharply, "NO! He is no Easterling, Master Dwarf, no ally of Saruman. He is my brother. . .brought from the distant future by Saruman's trickery. He risked his life to save Merry and Pippin. We will not repay that generosity with death!"  
  
Gimli muttered under his breath, but made no further attempts to attack the unconscious stranger. Aragorn left the small group to kneel beside the young stranger. He had long black hair, and his skin was ashen under the strange markings on his face.  
  
Aragorn immediately began checking him over, trying to find the cause of that pallor. It was only when Gandalf pulled back the blanket of leaves, that they saw. The young man's strange clothes were open, revealing an ugly stab wound in his abdomen. Gandalf had packed the wound, to stem the bleeding, but the stranger's life was still in danger. Aragorn murmured under his breath, checking the rest of the stranger for other wounds.  
  
"He's been in a fight. . .some of his ribs are broken. Probably from a kick. Gandalf, how did you find this young man again?" Aragorn asked, carefully re-packing the wound. The young man moaned, the first sign of consciousness he demonstrated since their arrival. Aragorn's forehead creased and he reached up with his free hand to touch the man's forehead, soothing, "Shhh. . .there is no need for you to fear us. We are friends."  
  
At the sound of Aragorn's voice, the eyelids parted, revealing deep brown eyes, filled with pain. The eyes swept from one to another, registering mild surprise at the sight of Gimli and Legolas, then continued to Gandalf. Now, the dark eyes reflected recognition and relief. Finally, the man's eyes settled on Aragorn, and he frowned. A hand reached up and touched Aragorn's cheek, and a hoarse voice rasped out, "Andreas?"  
  
Andreas? Legolas frowned, then looked between the stranger and his long-time friend once more. For the first time, he noticed the similarities between the two. However, he had no chance to remark on it. Aragorn reached up and covered the young man's hand with his own, answering, "My name is Aragorn. I am a friend. This is Gimli, son of Gloin, and Legolas, prince of Mirkwood. Who are you, and how did you come to be here?"  
  
The young man tried to speak, then winced, and Gandalf said quietly, "His name is Ardeth Bey. He comes from our distant future." That drew sharp looks from all of the remaining members of the Fellowship. The wizard continued, "Saruman brought him here, against his will. He was brought here to be a mirror in darkness to Aragorn. . .once Saruman and his Urk-hai were finished torturing him."  
  
A mirror in darkness? Legolas looked once more at the half-conscious man, and his heart beat double time. Fury blazed in Aragorn's gray eyes, but his tone was gentle as he told their unexpected guest, "Then we shall protect you with our lives, Ardeth Bey. You were brought to us for a reason. If we help you, do you think you can walk?" Legolas wanted to protest. Seeing the pain, seeing the man's pallor, he wanted to protest. But there was no time.  
  
And Ardeth Bey replied softly, his voice determined, "I. . .have walked. . .when I was injured far worse." Aragorn looked up at Legolas, asking without words if he would help. In answer, Legolas knelt at Ardeth's side, opposite Aragorn. Ardeth looked at them, adding almost plaintively, "But. . .I do think. . .I will need. . .help." Legolas had the sense that the request was difficult for the warrior to make. Something he could understand easily.  
  
Aragorn smiled gently and replied, "Be at ease, Ardeth. We only require your aid. Allow us to do the work. You have been badly injured. This will hurt, but there is work to be done. When we reach our destination, we can take better care of you. Are you ready?"  
  
Ardeth nodded, looking determined, and Legolas took one hand, while slipping his left arm around Ardeth's shoulders. On the other side, Aragorn did the same. The two friends looked at each other over the warrior's head, and Legolas counted in Elvish under his breath. One two three. On 'three,' the two friends pulled Ardeth to his feet. The elf heard the stranger struggling desperately to keep from moaning aloud.  
  
Gimli said as they waited to see if Ardeth's legs would hold him, "You look at us, young warrior, as if you have never seen an elf or a dwarf before. Do they not have our kind in your future?" Ardeth blinked, as if focusing on Gimli for the first time. Legolas frowned, then caught Aragorn's smile. . .at that point, Legolas understood. Gimli was trying to distract their new friend from the agony Legolas knew was tearing through his body.  
  
"No elves, no. Dwarves, yes. . .but none. . .none like you," Ardeth replied. As Legolas and Aragorn guided him toward the clearing where they left the horses, the young man groaned softly. Legolas tightened his hold, and Ardeth murmured something he didn't understand. Then he added, his voice hoarse, "Forgive me. . .just need time. . . time to control the pain." Legolas looked at Gandalf. Wasn't there something for the pain?  
  
"You are doing well, Ardeth. . .there is no need for you to apologize. You will draw no unwanted attention here," Aragorn answered. They were out in the sunlight once more, and Legolas sighed with relief as they left Fangorn Forest. Ardeth gasped in pain, and Aragorn added, "Though perhaps, I should ask your forgiveness. If you give us but a moment, I will be able to shield your eyes."  
  
Gandalf whistled as Gimli drew the horses together. Aragorn murmured, "I need you to hold him for a few moments, Legolas, while I mount. He will ride with me." Legolas nodded. He and Gimli rode double earlier. It was a good plan. He was on the point of answering, when a whinny drew his attention. Careful to keep Ardeth stable, Legolas looked in the direction of the whinny. What he saw made his mouth go dry with shock.  
  
He whispered, "Shadowfax." Gandalf smiled at him, his eyes alight with a familiar mischief. It was the first real sign of the wizard whom Legolas remembered from his early life since meeting up with the man once more. The horse galloped toward them, whickering when it reached Gandalf. The wizard rubbed the horse's nose and stroked his neck, ignoring Gimli's pointed observations about Ardeth mounting the horse before Aragorn. If anyone was asking his opinion, which, of course, they were not.  
  
"Shadowfax and I have had many adventures together. And Gimli, your idea is a good one. But I would suggest the horse kneel down, to allow Ardeth to mount. I do not believe attempting to mount in the traditional way would be the wisest course of action," Gandalf replied as he mounted his own horse. Aragorn murmured something, and his horse did as Gandalf suggested. Ardeth struggled just to lift his leg over the horse's back. There was no way he could have mounted by swinging into the saddle. His face was even more pale after he finished, and he was soaked with sweat. Not a very good thing, not when the Man was already burning up with fever.  
  
With Ardeth safely on the horse's back, Aragorn swung up behind him. He murmured, just loud enough for Legolas to hear, "Lean back, Ardeth. I told you. We will do all the work." There was a soft sigh, then Ardeth relaxed. Not only did that make it easier for his wound to heal, it also made it easier for Aragorn to hold the reins and guide the horse. Estel added, "Close your eyes and rest now. We have a long journey ahead of us."  
  
His voice was very gentle, as if speaking to a frightened animal or a child. Though he was very young indeed, Ardeth did not protest that he wasn't a child. Legolas guessed he had not the energy to make such a protest. Instead, he slumped back against Aragorn. Legolas smiled at his friend, who returned the gaze, asking very softly, "What? You look at me as if you have never before seen me, Legolas."  
  
"Sometimes, Estel, you amaze me," Legolas replied, grinning. Aragorn merely raised an eyebrow, but said nothing further. Instead, talk turned once more to the stranger. Ardeth. Who was from their distant future. Gimli, as to be expected, was dreaming up all sorts of outlandish scenarios for the future. Legolas listened to him with half an ear. Merry and Pippin were safe, Gandalf said. Beyond that, they knew nothing of the two hobbits.  
  
Sam and Frodo were on their way to Mount Doom. Boromir was dead, and Gandalf was returned from the dead. Now, there was an unexpected fourth member of their party. What did it all mean? Gandalf was of the opinion that Saruman would have never succeeded in bringing Ardeth to Middle Earth, if he was not meant to do so. Ardeth had a role of some kind to play, though not the part Saruman envisioned for him.  
  
They headed now for Rohan, and Legolas remembered what the Riders of Rohan told them during the confrontation. He wondered what waited for them once they reached Edoras. The elf was willing to wager that it was nothing pleasant. Then again, little of this journey was pleasant to date. They weren't on this journey for the sake of pleasantness. . .this was a quest. They had a purpose, and there was still work to be done.  
  
At last, Gimli ran out of speculations, and asked Gandalf, "What do you think? This future from which our new friend comes. . .what is it like?" Gandalf took a long time to answer. Legolas knew not if it was because he was weighing his words, or if he simply didn't know how to answer the question. Aragorn said nothing. . .only gently soothed his companion when Ardeth began to dream. Dream of how he came here?  
  
At last, Gandalf replied, "When we touched in our journey back to Middle Earth, after passing through fire and ice, I saw a little of his world in his mind. I saw more when I tried to treat his wounds. He lives in a dangerous time, and a dangerous place, Master Dwarf. You saw the scars on his body." Legolas did, indeed. Gandalf continued, "There are even more scars on his soul. He is a leader of Men, a king of a small nation."  
  
Aragorn looked around at that, and Gandalf continued, "The word he uses to describe his position is 'chieftain,' but he is a king, a general, a visionary. Saruman meant to torture him and break him, then recreate a new breed of Men in his image. A mirror in darkness to Aragorn."  
  
That was the second time he said that. A mirror in darkness to Aragorn. Dark to Aragorn's light. The Man replied, "But he risked his life to save Merry and Pippin. Did Saruman merely misjudge Ardeth's character, or did Ardeth not land where Saruman meant him to?" Ardeth moaned softly, his lips moving as if speaking. But not even Legolas' elven hearing could pick up on what he said.  
  
"That, I do not know. It is possible that Saruman's intent was noted during the spell that brought Ardeth to our time, and Ardeth's destination was changed. It is possible, too, that Saruman simply misjudged Ardeth. Never stopped to consider that Ardeth is a protector by nature. Something I read in his soul. I saw how he received some of his scars. I know that some of them were a result of him goading his captors, to protect his pregnant wife," Gandalf answered. Legolas could fill in those blanks quite easily.  
  
But Gimli gasped out loud, "The knaves would have harmed a pregnant lass?" Gandalf nodded grimly, his eyes blazing. Gimli swore long and colorfully in Dwarvish. Legolas shuddered, not at the descriptions the dwarf used, but at the images conjured up by Gandalf's words. He goaded his captors, to protect his wife. He had a sudden, powerful image of a man stalking over to a young woman, only to turn, his face a mask of hatred, toward Ardeth.  
  
And predictably, Gimli asked next, "Ardeth's wife. . .since you saw into his mind, Gandalf. . .is she a pretty lass?" Legolas rolled his eyes, trying not to laugh. 'Pretty' was a matter of opinion, and the elf was sure that to Ardeth, his wife was the most beautiful woman in the world. Whether that conformed with the dwarf's idea of beautiful, however, was something else entirely.  
  
"Ardeth thinks so. Perhaps she is not as fair of face as Galadriel, but she is a brave girl, and Ardeth trusts her to care for his people in his absence," came Gandalf's reply. He paused, then added, "When we stop for the night, and we can care for his wounds properly, I will ask him if he can project his wife's face into the fire. . .with my help, of course." That answered the elf's next question. Did Ardeth have any magic?  
  
"Did you wish to reach Rohan today or tomorrow, Gandalf?" Aragorn questioned. They were, of course, already in Rohan. However, what Aragorn meant was, did they wish to reach Edoras before darkness fell or the following day? Gandalf's eyes flickered from Aragorn to the man slumped against him. The Man continued, "I know the situation in Edoras is grave. We encountered Rohirrim on the way to Fangorn Forest."  
  
"The situation in Edoras is, indeed, grave. But in order to do what we must there, we will need Ardeth's aid. He does not yet have the strength that he will need. And there is still the matter of his ribs. You said earlier, Aragorn, that it looked like he was in a fight. That is not entirely true. In a fight, a warrior has the chance to defend himself. . .a chance that Ardeth was denied. Saruman took possession of his friend's body and attacked him. . .to make it easier for Saruman to reach into the future and take him," Gandalf replied. He paused, then continued, "I still have not figured out how he reached into the future. Perhaps Ardeth can explain things further when he awakens."  
  
Aragorn didn't answer, but it wasn't necessary. The way his jaw clenched told Legolas what his friend was thinking. Gimli, however, voiced something that Legolas was thinking. He asked, "You have said, wizard, that Saruman wishes our young guest to be a mirror in darkness to Aragorn. Why is that? What is so special about this lad? I can see that he is a warrior, and you have told us that he is a king to his people. But. . ."  
  
"But why him, and not someone else? I do not know, Gimli. What makes him so special? I think, perhaps, it is the lure of corrupting someone who is honorable. He is a great warrior among his people, one of their finest. He is a king, a general, a visionary. Once, I knew Saruman well. Once, I respected him and believed in him. The man whom I knew. . .the man whom I respected and trusted is long gone," Gandalf replied.  
  
Legolas heard the sadness behind those words. Sadness and perhaps even anger with himself, as well as with Saruman. Could he have foreseen this? Could he have somehow protected his old friend from making a deal with Sauron, a deal that would end up costing him his soul, his life. . .everything he once held dear? Legolas thought briefly about telling the wizard that Saruman made his own choice. . .then decided against it. Gandalf was far older than he. It would not be seemly to offer such advice.  
  
So, Legolas kept his thoughts to himself. They had a long way to ride, he would be needed to help Aragorn with Ardeth when they stopped. He would conserve his energy for that. Aside, of course, from teasing Gimli. Which required very little energy and even less thought. Quite simply, teasing Gimli was entirely too much fun not to do. And while he was an elf of nearly three thousand years, Legolas was still considered very young. Still young enough to enjoy himself, when he had the opportunity. 


	5. A Story is Told

Reviews!  
  
Aria-hannah: Oooh, what a pretty name! My youngest niece is named 'Hannah.' Well, you have your wish. . .Ardeth is now awake, and dealing with the first of several shocks. My stories are actually posted all over creation, since I write in so many fandoms. Tell me which of my other fandoms strike your fancy, and I'll tell you where I have fic archived for it.  
  
Kitrazzle Fayn: I was watching the first movie, Fellowship of the Ring, and realized it myself during one of the fighting scenes. They have very similar styles. Like Ardeth, Aragorn fights with whatever he has handy. Feet, fists, knives, swords, whatever. Aragorn is king, general, ranger, healer, a man caught between two worlds: the world of elves and the world of men. Ardeth is king, general, mystic, also a man caught between two worlds (or more). The more I watched both 'Fellowship of the Ring' and 'The Two Towers,' the more I felt it necessary to write this story. If only to make them both shut up!  
  
Sailor Elf: Yup, it hurt a lot. And 'a bit' of a surprise is something of an understatement. Imagine how the poor Med-jai reacts to seeing an elf!  
  
Also, a quick note: an unexpected story has been adding to my list of Modern Mummy stories. There will be at least two direct sequels to this story. They all build on each other (as most of my stories do). However, there will be two different stories in which a LOTR character ends up in our earth. . .one of whom knows Ardeth, and one of whom does not. I'll reveal the identity of the one who doesn't know Ardeth in the notes for the next chapter. . .if you want me to.  
  
Okay, on with the story!  
  
Part Four  
  
After watching his best friend get sucked. . .to God only knew where. . .it took several moments before Evy could get Rick to even stand up. Rick just kept staring at that damn thing. He didn't even know what to call it. He just knew that it was evil. And that it took his best friend away from the people who loved and needed him. Even with Evy's help, Rick found it hard to stand upright.  
  
Shit. He hadn't felt like this since. . .not since Lady Ardath showed him the past that might have been. What might have been if Andreas Bey, son of Suleiman and Altair Bey, didn't die in 1986. What might have been if Horus wasn't shot out of the sky by Lock-nah in the unholy oasis of Ahm Shere. Since that time, too, he learned Jonathan saw one other 'what might have been.' What might have been which would have taken place if Imhotep arose a generation earlier, while Rick, Evy, Jonathan, Ardeth and Celia were still children.  
  
That last scenario never really troubled Rick, perhaps because he didn't see it. But the first two. . .oh, the first two still made him shiver when he remembered. And then, to top it all off, they almost lost Ardeth because of Rick's stupidity. Rick wasn't a man who indulged in sentiment, except when it came to Evy, Alex, and Nefertiri. But he knew that the O'Connell family wouldn't exist, were it not for Ardeth.  
  
And now, he was gone. Just. . .gone. Rick refused to believe that his friend might be dead, lost to them forever. It couldn't end like that! Evy seemed to think that he was pulled into another dimension, another universe. Once upon a time, Rick would have laughed at that. That was, of course, before Imhotep's first rising. . .before a bracelet almost sucked the life out of his son, and before his wife was resurrected by that same little boy.  
  
That wasn't taking the last two years into account, either. With the addition of Celia and her little girl, the magic circle was now complete and guess what. The man who tried on more than one occasion to destroy Rick's family was *part* of that magic circle. Imhotep, Anck-su-namun, Terumun, Nefertiri, Nassor, Rameses and Ardath. Imhotep, Anck-su-namun, Rick, Evy, Jonathan, Ardeth and Celia.  
  
*You can't do this to them,* he thought, not even sure which god he was addressing. *Ardeth just got back from playing hunt the traitor, this can't be the end for them!* The gods, however, were notoriously silent. Even Horus and Isis, who went to such lengths two years earlier to remind Rick of how lucky he was to have Ardeth Bey as a friend. They were all silent, and it was all Rick could do to keep from crying out.  
  
"C'mon, love. . .we need to tell Celia about what happened," Evy was saying softly. Celia. How would they tell Celia about this? How would they tell her that they watched as her husband was sucked into god only knew where? After a moment, however, Rick smiled humorlessly. It wasn't as though strange was anything unusual for this family. That didn't make the coming confrontation any easier.  
  
Perhaps sensing this, Evy said softly, "We don't have to tell her everything, darling. We can just tell her about. . ." Evy's voice broke, and concerned, Rick turned to his wife. He was horrified to see tears in her eyes. . .horrified, but not shocked. Not as much as she loved Ardeth. Not as much as she loved Celia. Rick's heart broke all over again, his rage igniting at the same time. This thing that took Ardeth from them hurt Evy, and no one was allowed to do that. Not Imhotep, not Meela, and certainly not some creepy slimeball who needed a close encounter with a razor! Evy added hoarsely, trying to fight back her tears, "We tell them about that. . .thing."  
  
Unspoken were the other words. We won't tell her about something taking over your body and attacking her husband, attacking Rick's best friend. The best friend he ever had. Oh, Evy would never say those words, but Rick would. Just as he would say the other words. Ardeth would forgive him. . .he always did. He forgave him at Hamunaptra when Khaldun took control of Rick, he forgave him after Rick saw what might have been. He forgave him a thousand times. Ardeth would forgive him again.  
  
Ardeth wasn't the question. Celia. . .Celia was as protective of her husband as Rick was of his wife. She would do anything for Ardeth, anything in the world. It was, perhaps, the reason Rick understood her. . .even as she exasperated him. The only people she loved more than her husband were Miranda and Andreas. Possibly her two brothers, but that was questionable, too. Rick stopped and thought about that. Her brother. Galen. Evy asked, knowing his thoughts and moods well by now, "Rick? What are you thinking?"  
  
"Galen. Celia's brother Galen. He's lived here longer than I have, has seen things. . .I say we talk to him before we go to Celia," Rick said. It was the tiniest grasp of hope, the tiniest straw, but he grasped at it desperately. He didn't want to return to Tiri without Ardeth. He didn't want to tell his best friend's wife that Ardeth might be lost to them forever. Maybe Galen knew something, maybe he knew a way. . .  
  
But Evy knew better than that. So did Rick. His heart sank as his wife slowly shook her head, her dark eyes filled with compassion. Evy whispered, "Rick. This is beyond us. Beyond Imhotep, beyond Khaldun, beyond even Mathayus the Scorpion King. It may even be beyond the ancient gods. We must trust in Ardeth to come back to us. He has never failed us before. What makes you believe that he will fail us now?"  
  
Rick wasn't afraid that Ardeth would fail them. No. That wasn't it, at all. He had the utmost faith in the man who was always there for them. Even when he didn't want to be. No. No, Rick was afraid, rather, that he failed his best friend. In the hour when Ardeth needed him the most, he allowed that creep to take Ardeth from them. He allowed that creep access to his mind and his body, and he allowed Ardeth to be taken from them.  
  
And the question was not, did he have faith in Ardeth to find a way to return to them. Rather, it was. . .could he ever forgive himself? He was unable to forgive himself for allowing Evy to die at the hands of that bitch, Meela. And he could not forgive himself for allowing Alex to be taken from the double decker bus that night. It was only reasonable that he find it hard to forgive himself for this.  
  
However, in doing so, Rick forgot several important things. He forgot that the creep who took Ardeth violated him. He forgot that while good can combat evil, evil has a will of its own. Terrible things happened to good people, while good things happened to terrible people. That some things are unavoidable, through one's own choices or the choices of others. There was nothing Rick O'Connell could have done to protect his friend that day. The only thing he could do now. . .was keep faith in his friend.  
  
. . .  
  
Gimli, son of Gloin, was a *most* impatient dwarf. They would arrive in Edoras on the morrow, and with their new. . .ally? Comrade? Gimli had not yet decided what this mysterious young stranger was. Was he a friend? Despite the assurances of Gandalf, the dwarf was not so quick to accept this newcomer could be trusted. On the other hand. . .the boy *was* wounded while protecting Merry and Pippin. For that alone, even if he did betray them, Gimli would grant him a merciful death.  
  
But right now, the lad was in no condition to betray anyone. He was sleeping as they rode, slumped against Aragorn's chest, and Gimli wondered again about this 'Andreas.' The name he called out when he saw Aragorn. Who was Andreas? A friend? A comrade in arms? Perhaps. . .nay. Nay, Gandalf spoke of this Ardeth's love for his wife. He willingly submitted to brutal torture in order to protect his pregnant wife.  
  
And that caused Gimli no end of horror. A pregnant lass, of all things! He wasn't surprised by such cruelty in this world, in the world he knew. But he always believed the world to come would be better. Yet, Gandalf told him that Ardeth's world was a dangerous place. He told him that they would learn more when they stopped for the night. Now, a soft moan brought Gimli back to the here and now, and he looked over at the source of the sound.  
  
Aragorn had stopped, a concerned expression on his face, and Gandalf urged Shadowfax closer to the Man and his unconscious passenger. The wizard pressed the back of his hand to the young man's forehead, and his grim expression told the story. Ardeth was growing worse. In spite of himself, in spite of the wariness he continued to feel toward the newcomer, Gimli swallowed hard. As they rode, Legolas told him of. . .well, it couldn't be called a conversation. But he told Gimli what he learned from listening to the trees.  
  
Gravely wounded, Ardeth still fought to protect Merry and Pippin. Only being slammed into *a* tree, by *another* tree, kept him from rescuing them once in Fangorn Forest. The lad certainly had courage a-plenty. Courage and strength. Gimli hoped it would be enough to keep him alive. Gandalf said quietly, "I shall find a place to rest for the night. A place where we will be protected. Take care of him, Aragorn."  
  
The Man nodded, his blue-gray eyes filled with concern and determination. Over the last few weeks, Gimli came to know Aragorn very well. It was the dwarf's considered belief that if it was within his power, Aragorn would will Ardeth to fight, even giving his own strength if it became necessary. And again, Gimli wondered. Why? Why was this strange man so terribly important to Gandalf and to Aragorn?  
  
It seemed he failed to keep his musings to himself, for Legolas said softly, "It is not such a hard thing to understand, Gimli, what draws them to him. Gandalf regards him as a brother. Their souls touched during their journeys. That made them brothers. And Aragorn. . .Aragorn blames himself. Nay. That is the improper thing to say. Aragorn feels responsible for him. Ardeth was brought to this world from his own, unwillingly. He was brought to this world, to become Aragorn's mirror in darkness."  
  
"Saruman's choice," the dwarf pointed out, "Not a choice made by Aragorn. He does not bear responsibility for young Ardeth's plight. Though I know it is of no use to tell him so." Legolas merely nodded, his blue eyes sad as he stared at his dearest friend. The elf's attachment to the human was obvious to Gimli upon his arrival at the Council of Elrond. How long had they been friends? Gimli would have had to be a fool, to miss the elf's obvious protectiveness of the Man. The way Legolas stood and defended Aragorn to Boromir. And for all his faults and his flaws, Gimli, son of Gloin, was no fool.  
  
Aragorn's mirror in darkness. Did Ardeth have such a friend in his own time, in his own place? Did he have someone, aside from his wife, who would do the things for Ardeth that Gimli noted Legolas doing for Aragorn? Reaching down to put a supportive hand on his shoulder, when they believed the halflings were dead and lost to them forever? Catching Aragorn on the crumbling Bridge of Khazad-dum.  
  
A thousand simple gestures. Gimli, son of Gloin, never had a friend like Legolas. Never had a friend who was so protective of him, so supportive. Until he actually met Legolas. The initial distrust between elf and dwarf gave way to a grudging friendship. Gimli remembered how Legolas raised his bow in Gimli's defense during the confrontation with the Rohirrim. 'You would die before your stroke fell,' he told the leader of the Rohirrim.  
  
Humph. Perhaps elves did not make such terrible allies, after all, though they considered themselves superior. Legolas was proving to be a good ally. . .and a good friend. Gimli was still reserving judgment on Ardeth. He did not believe he was being unreasonable. And he was not. The betrayal of Saruman stunned all of free Middle Earth. Boromir. . .yes, he remained honorable in the end, but it was a narrow thing.  
  
No, he was not being unreasonable at all. To protect his friends, what remained of the fellowship, he was not being unreasonable in the least. Gimli nodded to himself, grunting in approval, particularly when he saw their intended stop for the night. Gandalf had found a small copse of trees, which looked nothing like the overwhelming forest they left hours earlier. The wizard dismounted, and started to walk over to Aragorn's horse. But the Man said softly, "Legolas can help me. He will have need of you, old friend."  
  
Gandalf nodded, a half-smile hovering about his lips. Instead, he helped Gimli dismount, and the dwarf began collecting firewood. He looked over his shoulder, and watched in silence as Aragorn carefully eased the still-unconscious Ardeth into the waiting arms of the elf. Gimli frowned. Should not the pain have awakened their unexpected ally? Legolas adjusted his grip, as Aragorn dismounted, then the Man and the elf carried Ardeth over to the trees.  
  
Both removed articles of clothing to ease the boy's possible suffering. A rolled-up cloak for a pillow and a cloak to keep him warm. There was tenderness in both, gently soothing their new ally when he did moan a little. Aragorn asked softly, once Ardeth (and what a strange name that was!) was settled, "Is a fire a safe thing for us, Gandalf?" The wizard looked through his pack for several moments, then looked up at the Man. Aragorn smiled then, and turned his attention to tending Ardeth. Gimli tended to the fire. And who knew what Legolas tended to, for he was an elf, and they were a strange race at times.  
  
As the day passed once more into night, Gimli could only think about how much things could change in such a short amount of time. Last night, he, Aragorn, and Legolas were on the trail of the Uruk-hai who captured Merry and Pippin. Only this morning, they feared the worst. Now, they knew the halflings were safe. . .and they had something new to concern them. Rather, some*one* new to concern them.  
  
Shadows fell around them. Gandalf and Aragorn continued their ministrations. Legolas merely leaned back against a tree, his bow and arrow resting beside him. A quiet sentry, keeping watch over them. At long last, Legolas broke that same silence, asking softly, "Do you suppose, Gandalf. . .when he awakens. . .that Ardeth will consent to tell us about his time? About his world, about his wife? About that which he holds dearest?" Gandalf looked up from his work, and so did Gimli. The elf looked at Gandalf with wide, almost hopeful blue eyes.  
  
It was easy to forget sometimes that Legolas was a young elf, indeed. Not quite three thousand years old, in a race that lived to be much older. Lord Elrond was seven thousand years old, and it was anyone's guess how old Celeborn, his father-in-law, was. Gimli could not quite think of the beautiful Galadriel as being 'old,' though he knew her to be the grandmother of lovely Arwen, and mother-in-law of Lord Elrond.  
  
And yet, ever so often. . .the young elf's blue eyes would sparkle with mischief. Or some other sign would be demonstrated that he was still very young indeed. This was the case now, as he stared at Ardeth in wonderment. Gandalf replied gently, "I believe he shall. This is a strange place for him, Legolas. Speaking of his wife, of his children, of his home. . .that will put him at his ease. But mind you do not tire him out."  
  
This was said with an almost impish grin, and Legolas smiled back. There was a soft groan coming from the ground beside Aragorn, and the Man looked over in concern. Something strange was murmured, then was repeated in a raspy voice, "Water. . .please?" Aragorn immediately uncorked his own waterskin and lifted the young man's head, whispering that he should drink slowly. Gimli smiled. At last. Some questions would be answered.  
  
. . .  
  
By all rights, he should have been dead. Two things told him that he was not. First, it was impossible to feel pain when one was dead. Or so he was always told. Imhotep reminded him once that he was never truly dead. . .nor was he alive. Otherwise, Ardeth would have asked his former enemy. Secondly, the chieftain was ever a stubborn man, and it was not part of his personality to simply give up, no matter how badly he was wounded.  
  
As he asked for water, that most precious of gifts was granted to him, and Ardeth obeyed the gentle instructions to drink slowly, and not too much. With a soft groan, he pushed the water away and his head was eased back to the ground. For the first time, Ardeth realized someone was holding his skull. A moment after that, he saw the face of his helper. He was a bit older than Ardeth, or so it seemed, and his dark hair was almost as long as Ardeth's. His eyes were a silvery blue, and he had the look of the warrior about him.  
  
Behind him, Ardeth could see the strange, silver-haired man from before. Before? Ardeth frowned. He never saw this man before, he was fairly sure. Or had he? He was damnably confused at the moment. The last thing he remembered was Merry and Pippin. The chieftain closed his eyes and shook his head. Not the wisest action, for it sent shockwaves of pain through his skull. A rough voice said, "What is the matter with him, laddie?" Ardeth suppressed a gasp of pain as the man beside him gently probed a lump on the back of his head.  
  
"He has a bump on the back of his head. Had I discovered this earlier, I would have never allowed him to fall unconscious," came the man's answer, his voice soft with recrimination. Ardeth immediately opened his mouth, to protest that it wasn't the other man's fault. But it was then that a new figure moved into Ardeth's line of sight. And this newcomer was enough to drive the air from Ardeth's very lungs.  
  
The closest comparison he could make was the feeling he experienced when his son was born and placed in his arms. After Imhotep made sure the child was well, and suffered from no ill effects, he placed the little boy in Ardeth's arms. . .and the chieftain found he could not breathe. When he learned that Celia was pregnant, he swore that he would make her a greater priority in his life. His son's birth merely cemented his vow. That tiny, innocent, fragile, defenseless child literally turned Ardeth Bey's life upside down. Just by gazing up into his eyes.  
  
That wonderment and shock and amazement and awe was what he felt now. Totally stunned, Ardeth did something very unusual for him. He reached out to touch the face of the newcomer. He was very young. He seemed to be around the same age as Anatol, perhaps even younger, with pale blond hair and bright blue eyes. But that is not what caught and held Ardeth's attention. Rather, it was the ears hiding behind the long blond hair.  
  
Ardeth brushed the strands away and almost reverently touched the tip of one pointed ear. And the young. . .being, for Ardeth's mind was still reeling at the implications. . .merely smiled gently. The chieftain raised stunned eyes to meet the blue eyes of the other. He could not breathe. He could not speak. He witnessed many terrifying, unbelievable, amazing things during his life. Most of them during the fifteen years he was the chieftain of the Med-jai.  
  
But not even the revelation that he was Rameses reborn prepared him for this. In a low voice, Ardeth finally managed to ask, "You. . .are an elf?" He did not even hear his own voice. He could not. Nor did he think it foolish of himself to be undone by this. Especially after everything that happened to him today. But. . .an elf? A creature of myth and legend, a creature found in fairy tales and ancient stories?  
  
The young man smiled ever brighter and answered in an equally low voice, "I am." Ardeth gave a strange noise that he didn't particularly recognize, but didn't pull his hand away. He could not. He could not move, could not speak, could do nothing but stare. Least of all when the young man gently placed his hand against Ardeth's, and said softly, "I am Legolas Greenleaf, prince of Mirkwood. Gandalf tells us that you protected our friends, Merry and Pippin. You have our thanks for that, Ardeth Bey."  
  
Friends. Merry and Pippin. That explained how this elf, Legolas, knew his name. Ardeth was starting to wonder about that. He knew he didn't tell these men his name. However, he *did* remember telling his name to the two small ones. A rough voice, the one from earlier, interrupted again, this time shattering the moment, shattering the spell, "Ach, move aside, laddie. You are taking up too much room." Ardeth blinked as a new figure approached, almost pushing Legolas into the man aiding Ardeth. However, the elf proved to be much more graceful than that, and maintained his balance.  
  
Legolas added with a barely contained smirk, "And this is Gimli." His eyes were sparkling, and Ardeth found himself smiling back. His eyes shifted back to Gimli who. . .was a dwarf. Ardeth frowned, as bits and pieces came back to him. Legolas was on the verge of speaking further, when he noticed Ardeth's expression. Whatever jest he was about to make, a concerned expression took the place of mischief, and he asked, "Ardeth? What is it?"  
  
"I. . .remember. Did we speak earlier?" Ardeth asked. He was quickly growing tired of lying down, and looking *up* at everyone. To that end, he tried to push himself into a sitting position, but a searing pain in his midsection (coupled with his broken ribs) quickly stopped that. As did a hand on his chest, and Ardeth looked back at the dark-haired man. Yes. He was a man. Not an elf, not a dwarf, not a. . .whatever Merry and Pippin were.  
  
And that man smiled at him gently, replying, "We did. You were barely conscious, and I believed we would probably need to introduce ourselves once more. I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn." He dipped his head slightly in a bow, adding, "And please do me the courtesy of staying still. We do not wish your wound to open once more. I will help you sit up. Legolas?" At the request, the elf was beside him immediately and they carefully drew Ardeth into a sitting position, with Legolas bracing him.  
  
It was far more necessary than Ardeth would have liked. He had no strength. . .not the strength he would have needed to fight. And for a warrior, that was the most necessary strength of all in a strange world. But he was also too sensible to refrain from leaning against the willing strength of the elf. Aragorn said softly, opening Ardeth's robes to check the wound, "There is something I wish to ask you, if you are willing." The chieftain nodded, and Aragorn continued, his eyes never leaving Ardeth's face, "Who is Andreas? You spoke that name earlier."  
  
"Actually, you called Aragorn, 'Andreas' and touched his cheek," Gimli interrupted. He didn't back down under the somewhat withering look Aragorn directed at him, adding gruffly, "Well, he did, and I'll not say otherwise." Ardeth, however, was barely paying attention to the dwarf at that point. He called Aragorn 'Andreas.' That was. . .unexpected. Or perhaps not, for there was a slight resemblance, and if he was delirious at the time. . .  
  
Stranger things happened. Often. Ardeth replied, locking eyes with Aragorn, "Andreas is the name of my son. It is also the name of. . .Andreas was also my brother." Ardeth could see that his use of the past tense told all of those gathered what they needed to know. Aragorn lowered his head, lowered his eyes, and Ardeth felt the elf's hand tighten on his shoulder. The man reached over then, and put his hand on Ardeth's other shoulder.  
  
"I ask your forgiveness. I did not mean to awaken old wounds," he said softly. Ardeth started to answer, started to reassure the other man that he did no such thing. Ardeth lived with these memories and these wounds, every day of his life. However, he unconsciously shifted. . . and pain exploded through his torso once more. Ohhhh, when would he learn *not* to do that! Legolas gripped his shoulders. . .or maybe it was Aragorn and Legolas each. Either way, the touch, the comforting knowledge that he wasn't alone any longer in this strange place, drew him through the pain.  
  
Once he could breathe once more, Ardeth answered, "No forgiveness is required. It is, as you say, an old wound. Sometimes, such wounds never heal." He held Aragorn's eyes, and saw understanding dawn in the eyes of the other man. Ardeth took another breath, then asked, "Now. I have questions. Obviously, I am no longer in my own world. This is not Egypt. . .this is not Northern Africa. This is not the world where I lived my entire life. Where *am* I, and how is it that I speak your language, or you speak mine?" The silver-haired man spoke for the first time.  
  
"In answer to your first question, young Ardeth, you are actually in the same world. Merely a different time," he replied. Ardeth looked at him curiously. Yes, he was there from earlier. . .when he spoke with Aragorn and Legolas previously. But he seemed more familiar than that. The old man continued, "In answer to your unasked question, I am Gandalf the White, a wizard. Our souls touched during our journey."  
  
The. . . Ardeth inhaled sharply, ignoring the stabbing pain in his side. Yesssssss. He remembered now. Gandalf smiled at him almost tenderly, then continued, "This is called Middle Earth, and it is the distant past of your own world. You come from a world perhaps thirty thousand years in our future. I cannot say for sure." Thirty thousand years. Ardeth was no archaeologist, but he heard Celia and Evelyn talking about the new theories floating about the age of civilization. And he knew how this knowledge would shake up the world, his own world.  
  
However, Gandalf was not finished. He went on, "As to the language issue. I believe, Ardeth, that when you were dragged here, our gods, the Valar, took notice. And they took pity on you, for what Saruman did was nothing short of a violation. For that reason, and others, they gifted you with understanding of our language. Thus. . .you believe we are speaking your language, when in truth, you are speaking ours."  
  
Ardeth noticed two things about that explanation. First, it made an alarming degree of sense, and he thought about the conversations he could have with this man. This wizard. Second, he noticed Gandalf's bluntness. He did not disguise what was done to Ardeth by this Saruman. He *was* dragged to this world. Literally. But he was here now, and the odds were good that these gods, these Valar, believed he had a job to do here.  
  
He could have wasted time, whining and crying about how unfair it was. But would it do, what would it prove, what use would it be? None. Besides, from his calculations, the sooner he accepted this bizarre twist of some insane fate and got to work, perhaps that meant he would return that much sooner. It was a reasonable explanation, and if it was not the proper one, well, he would live with those consequences. And Ardeth hadn't the strength to waste. Never doubt, Ardeth Bey never once thought of himself as a hero. In truth, there were times when he considered himself a miserable failure. But. . .he did what he thought was right.  
  
And *that* was what made him a hero, along with his quiet courage and strength. Ardeth looked up at Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli, his new companions on this strange journey. He said softly, "When do we get started?" The four looked at each other, and Ardeth clarified, though he was quickly running out of energy, "I was brought here for a reason. When do we get started?" The young chieftain was rewarded with a broad smile from Gandalf.  
  
"In the morning, Ardeth. We start in the morning. For now, however, you must rest," the wizard replied. Gratefully, the Med-jai nodded and leaned back into the comforting strength granted to him by Legolas. He did not close his eyes. He was not sleepy, as such. Tired, of course. Wearied by the talking. Gandalf asked softly, "The others are curious about your wife, Ardeth. They wish to see the wife of a chieftain. If you would concentrate on a special memory of her, I can project her image into the fire."  
  
They were curious about Celia? Gandalf wanted him to focus on a special memory of her? Which one? Every moment he shared with Celia was special, even when she was furious with him. But he chose not to focus on one of those memories. For all that these men were now his allies, he barely knew them. There was a difference between trusting a man with your life and trusting him with a memory of your wife, particularly when they wouldn't understand all the little intricacies that made up that relationship.  
  
So, instead, he focused on a memory. The memory, in fact, of their very first kiss. He smiled, in spite of the pain still exploding in his chest and head, and he closed his eyes. It was always so much easier to remember that day when his eyes were closed. Standing on a cliff overlooking Hamunaptra, the very same cliff where he first saw Rick O'Connell, so many years earlier. She was looking up at him, her hair tossed about her face by the hot desert wind. Ardeth had absolutely no comprehension of how someone could call his wife plain.  
  
Did they not see her smile? Her lovely hazel eyes that changed color with her mood? Her wild dark hair? Admittedly, they never ran their fingers through it, as Ardeth did, but why did they not see her as he did? So focused was he on recreating that most precious memory that he didn't realize someone was seeing Celia *through his eyes.* Four someones, in fact. They were seeing her as he did. Because from that memory, others sprang.  
  
They were fighting back to back in Hamunaptra, against the skeletons awakened by Khaldun. Side by side another time. She was holding him against her body after Imhotep and Rick freed her from her bonds, and even through the agony flooding through his body, Ardeth could feel the beat of her heart and the frantic kicks of their unborn son. Both alive. Both healthy. And both worth every second of pain.  
  
After a few moments, Ardeth opened his eyes to find his new companions staring at him in wonder. He looked from one face to another, but it was Gimli who said softly, "Among the dwarves, your wife would be a goddess indeed. Lovely of face, fierce in battle, tender in spirit. You chose well, young Ardeth." Aragorn said nothing, but a sadness filled his eyes. And Gandalf merely smiled. Ardeth didn't know these men very well yet, and didn't know what that smile meant. However, he was sure that he would learn soon enough.  
  
The atmosphere was a touch strained, and Ardeth hoped what he was about to ask did not strain it further. But he wanted to know. In a somewhat stronger voice, the Med-jai said, "When I came across Merry and Pippin, they were very determined to. . .protect me. To shield me from the same fate as another friend of theirs. Boromir. Was he. . .a friend to you all?" Now Aragorn's eyes reflected grief.  
  
And it was Legolas, still supporting Ardeth from behind, who said, "He was a member of our fellowship. A Man, like Aragorn. He was very close to Merry and Pippin. It surprises me little that they are haunted by his death, and that they were protective of you as a result." Aragorn's sadness lifted a little at that, and he smiled suddenly. Legolas shook with silent laughter as he added, "You remember, do you not, Aragorn. . .Boromir teaching Merry and Pippin to fight that day?"  
  
Gimli barked with laughter as Aragorn replied, "I do, indeed. It was a sight to behold, Ardeth. Particularly when Boromir accidentally knicked one of the Hobbits, and they attacked him, wrestling him to the ground." Ardeth would have laughed, but a twinge in his side reminded him of the folly of that. Legolas, however, was laughing quietly behind him. Aragorn continued, the sadness returning to his eyes, "And then the spies of Saruman came."  
  
"Focus on that memory, Aragorn," Gandalf said suddenly, "so that Ardeth may see as well." That drew him startled looks from the other three members of the presumably-shattered Fellowship, and Gandalf continued, "Well, the man was kind enough to share memories of his wife with you. . .tis only right that you do the same for him." Aragorn frowned a little, but only for a moment, then he nodded.  
  
As Ardeth did earlier, he closed his eyes, a faint smile playing about his lips. Curious, Ardeth directed his attention toward the fire, almost gasping in surprise when he saw an image form in the flames. He saw Merry and Pippin with swords in their hands, engaged in a practice session with a sandy-haired man, perhaps the same age as Aragorn. But this time, as he watched the two Halflings 'attack' their instructor, kicking his shins and tackling him to the ground, Ardeth forgot himself and laughed out loud.  
  
Not just at the amusing sight of an adult man being wrestled to the ground by the two small Half-lings (or Hobbits, as he heard them called). . .but at the laughter in Boromir's eyes. He laughed at Aragorn's obvious amusement. The laughter cost him dearly, and he felt Legolas tightening his grip. But as the image died away, Ardeth looked back at Aragorn, who said softly, "That is how I wish to remember Boromir. Thank you, Ardeth."  
  
The chieftain blinked in surprise. Why was Aragorn thanking him? It was Gandalf who projected that image into the fire with his magic and Aragorn's own memories? Legolas said softly from behind him, "Boromir died in Aragorn's arms. He died, trying to save Merry and Pippin. After losing control, and attacking Frodo. But he atoned when the Uruk-hai attacked, and fought bravely."  
  
Frodo. That was the second time he heard that name. Gandalf said before he could ask, "I think it is time you were told the entire story, Ardeth. You have agreed to help us, and now you should know what you have joined. First, I must repeat that one of my kind brought you here. Another wizard, an Istari, named 'Saruman.' The betrayer, who has joined forces with the Dark Lord, Sauron." Yes, Ardeth remembered that, and remembered the name. If it was possible, once his part in this was done, he would have words with this Saruman. Especially if his instincts were correct, and Saruman was behind the attack in the cave.  
  
Ardeth felt Legolas shift behind him, and Gandalf continued, "You must understand that this story began three thousand years ago, with Sauron's first rising. It began with the One Ring, and that is how it must end. With the destruction of the One Ring, the One Ring that Frodo now carries to Mount Doom. It is. . .I have seen into your mind, Ardeth. I know you realize that true evil exists. The One Ring is evil, like its creator and master, Sauron. It. . .seduces everyone with whom it comes into contact. And it was the One Ring that drove Boromir to attack Frodo."  
  
This time, Ardeth did not need the images in the fire to see what Gandalf was telling him. However, he didn't interrupt as the wizard explained everything that happened up to this point. The One Ring that played upon its victim's greatest desires and greatest fears. How Boromir believed for so long that the One Ring could be used against Sauron. How desperate he was to save his home and his people.  
  
Aragorn said softly, "The last thing Boromir said to me. . ." He stopped, his voice shaking a little. Gimli put his hand on the man's shoulder, and Ardeth saw the grief in Gandalf's eyes. He had not, Ardeth realized, yet heard this story. It didn't surprise him. But it grieved him, nonetheless. Aragorn began once more, "The last thing he said to me was, 'I would have followed you, my brother. . .my captain. . .my king.' He. . ."  
  
Again, Aragorn fell silent, and this time, Legolas took up the narrative, explaining, "You see, Ardeth. Aragorn. . .Estel. . .Strider. . .he is the heir of Isildur, the young prince who destroyed the body of Sauron during the First War, three thousand years ago. He is the King of Gondor. And you were brought here, by Saruman, to be his mirror in darkness." Ardeth turned that over and over in his mind.  
  
At last, he looked at his companions, saying, "Rest must wait a little longer tonight, though I am weary. There is now a story I must tell you, and like yours, it has its beginnings more than three thousand years ago. Unlike yours, there is no great Ring of Power, no dark lord. Only human beings who loved and hated, and at its center, a simple young concubine whose death unleashed a chain reaction." With those words, he began the story of Rameses and Ardath, the Med-jai and Imhotep.  
  
. . .  
  
The tale was deceptively simple, from the point of view of the young elf currently supporting their new ally. More than three thousand years earlier, the twenty year old concubine of Prince Rameses was murdered by his jealous cousin, Prince Khaldun. Rameses was utterly devoted to his Lady Ardath, and her murder was all the more devastating, as it came only a week after the birth of their son.  
  
Rameses' grief turned to white-hot rage when he learned that his cousin was not only responsible for the murder of his Ardath, but he bragged about what he did. The prince literally went mad with grief. Legolas swallowed hard, but said nothing. It seemed the telling of the tale was difficult for their new ally. . .not just physically, but emotionally as well. And the others were just as silent, Aragorn's eyes never leaving Ardeth's face.  
  
Upon learning of Khaldun's treachery, Rameses and his three best friends abducted the jealous prince and took him to Hamunaptra, the city of the dead. It was a tomb for royalty, and the hiding place of the great treasures of the land. Nassor, Rameses' trusted general, and Terumun, the Med-jai, waited outside as Rameses and the final member of this magic circle, the high priest Imhotep, tortured Khaldun to death.  
  
Ardeth was mercifully silent about what they did to him, but the pain in his voice went beyond the physical. Unbeknownst to the prince and the other three men, they were not alone that night. Imhotep's beloved, Anck- su-namun, was also the best friend of Lady Ardath, and when she learned of Khaldun's part in her sister's murder, she swore to take her own revenge. She got there too late, of course. . .but she found a place and watched the end of the beginning.  
  
Five years passed, and feeling too dirty to raise Ardath's final gift to him, Rameses gave him to a young Med-jai to raise, though he did blame the royal bodyguards for the loss of his beloved concubine. . .his wife in all but name. Five years after the torture and murder of Khaldun, another murder took place. . .the murder of Rameses' father, Seti. The murder was committed by the same Imhotep who helped Rameses and the same Anck-su-namun who had so loved Lady Ardath.  
  
Anck-su-namun took her own life, shortly thereafter, and Imhotep stole her body. It was his intention to resurrect her at Hamunaptra. However, the unquiet spirit of Khaldun saw this turn of events as a golden opportunity to punish those responsible for his grisly murder. Rameses sent the Med-jai after Imhotep, after learning from his nearly-hysterical younger sister Nefertiri that it was Imhotep and Anck-su-namun who killed their father.  
  
They were not to allow Imhotep to conclude the ritual that would bring Anck-su-namun back to life. They were to stop the ritual, and bring Imhotep back to face Rameses' justice. However, it was at this point that Khaldun's ghost interfered. He infected the minds of the Med-jai there that night, most notably, the mind of their captain, Hamadi Bey. The captain, already angered by the death of first Lady Ardath, then by the murder of Seti, was all too willing to listen to Khaldun's whispering.  
  
A second atrocity took place within the walls of Hamunaptra, for Hamadi Bey cast the hom-dai, the most feared curse among Ardeth's people. Imhotep's tongue was cut out, wrapped up as a mummy, then placed in a sarcophagus with scarabs that would literally eat him alive. And should he ever emerge from his prison, he would bring with him the plagues of the ancient world. . .along with an unholy power. In disgrace for this illegal casting of the hom-dai, the Med-jai were exiled and charged with the responsibility of making sure Imhotep never fulfilled the terrible power given to him as one of the undead.  
  
For three thousand years, the descendents of those men kept watching at Hamunaptra, ensuring that Imhotep did not rise. For though he was the only one who actually suffered the hom-dai, he was not the only victim of that curse. The Med-jai descendents were also victims of their ancestor's arrogance and weakness. Just as, Legolas realized with a start, Aragorn continued to suffer for the weakness of his own ancestor, Isildur.  
  
Nothing lasts forever. Not curses, not blessings, and not Imhotep's imprisonment. He rose twice. Twice, the Med-jai and their new allies put him back in his grave. A third time, only months after his second, Imhotep was called back to the world. This time, by members of a secret society created to protect the innocent. This time, they used the body of an innocent Dutch businessman whose only crime was his amazing physical resemblance to Imhotep. They murdered that man, and called back Imhotep's spirit from the Underworld.  
  
The tables turned, for these fools were in league with the same Khaldun who murdered an innocent concubine three thousand years earlier. Imhotep had no more interest in destroying the world or in dominating it. He only wanted peace now, whether it came from the grave or peace of another sort. He turned on these men, and joined forces with the descendents of those who condemned him to thirty centuries of torment.  
  
Of course, one of the mistakes made was when Khaldun's new followers tricked Imhotep into kidnapping a four-year-old girl. This little girl, Miranda, was the small daughter of another member of this secret society, a young woman named. . .named 'Celia.' Legolas felt his blood run cold. But he held his tongue, listening as Ardeth explained Khaldun's plan. Imhotep's second awakening also awakened Khaldun.  
  
By this time, Legolas decided that Imhotep was not a truly evil man. Not like Saruman. Not like Khaldun. He did not sound like the sort of man who would murder an innocent girl, and then brag about it to cause pain to another. This was confirmed as Ardeth explained that Khaldun wanted revenge against the reincarnations of Rameses and Ardath, and he would start by making sure that they never met. They were always stronger together than they were apart.  
  
Unfortunately for him, those reincarnations already met and began quietly building a friendship that slowly developed into love. Those reincarnations were Ardeth Bey and Celia Ferguson. Another piece of the puzzle clicked into place for Legolas, though he wasn't sure how accurate his guess was. In any event, during the rescue of Miranda, Khaldun tried to murder Ardeth. However, the old gods were angry at his cheating, and granted Ardeth the opportunity to face Khaldun in the dream-world. . .an opportunity Ardeth took without hesitation.  
  
In the physical world, Khaldun faced off with Celia, who was sharing her body with Lady Ardath. It was only right. He murdered Lady Ardath, robbing a baby boy of his mother and a young prince of the woman he loved. He robbed Lady Ardath the opportunity to be a mother to her child and stand at the side of her prince. He tricked Imhotep into kidnapping little Miranda Ferguson, and ordered the kidnapping of that child's mother. Over the years, he made too many mothers and children suffer.  
  
Khaldun was defeated in both the physical world and in the dream- world. Hamunaptra sank below the sand once more, and in the weeks that followed, Ardeth Bey made Celia Ferguson his wife. They were married for the last two years, and through the adventures that followed, their bond only strengthened. Which wasn't to say, of course, that they didn't argue. They did. But in private. Celia would never dishonor her husband by arguing with him in public. And Ardeth would never dishonor his wife by allowing ill to be spoken of her.  
  
Ardeth was hoarse as he finished his tale. Gandalf said what was in the elf's mind, observing, "You've given us all much to consider, young chieftain. But not, it is time for you to rest." Ardeth merely nodded and Legolas felt the man relax in his arms. He was exhausted, there was no doubt about that. And the last few days were difficult on him. There was a long silence, and once all were certain Ardeth was asleep, Gandalf said quietly, "Now you know his story. And, I wager, we know why he was brought here."  
  
"Aye," Aragorn said quietly, "but the question remains, once he fulfills his task, how do we return him to his home? This is not his place, Gandalf. He belongs in the future, in his Egypt, with his Celia." Gandalf nodded and Aragorn fell silent, staring into the night. Legolas didn't know what his friend was thinking, which disturbed him. But what he found far more disturbing were the similarities between the One Ring and Ardeth's story.  
  
. . .  
  
Aragorn, son of Arathorn, foster son of Elrond of Rivendell, was also disturbed by the story told by their new ally. It was un-nervingly close to the story of his family's failure three thousand years earlier. But that wasn't the only thing that troubled the ranger. No. No, it was Gandalf's reference to Ardeth. Aragorn's mirror in darkness. He knew, of course, about Saruman's betrayal. Worse yet, Saruman betrayed them all a long time ago. They were only just now learning about it.  
  
Aragorn's mirror in darkness. But how could a mirror in darkness risk his life for someone he didn't even know? Not just risk his life, but keep fighting, long after he was gravely wounded? Did Saruman learn nothing of Ardeth before he brought him here? And if he did, what did he see in Ardeth that made him think he could destroy the young man's very soul like that? What was he seeing. . .?  
  
No matter how hard he tried, the human could not wrap his mind around that. He looked again at the sleeping young man who reclined in the elven prince's arms. Legolas maintained his hold on Ardeth, though he could have released him and placed him back against the ground. As if hearing his thoughts, Legolas looked up and said softly, "I do not mind, Estel."  
  
"One thing I still don't understand," Gimli said gruffly. It seemed he was as affected by Ardeth's story as Aragorn, or even Legolas. He continued, "He is a good boy. Is Saruman really such a fool, to believe he could turn him to his own side? Is he really capable of inflicting such agony, that Ardeth would have become Aragorn's mirror in darkness?" Aragorn looked over at the dwarf, surprised by this observation.  
  
"Every man has a breaking point, Gimli. Every man has a limit. Is it possible for Saruman to torture Ardeth, to the point of destroying his soul? Of course it is. Will he get that chance? No, he will not. More to the point, Saruman made a terrible error in judgment. Not the first time that has happened in recent times. He misjudged what would push Ardeth to that point," Gandalf answered quietly.  
  
Legolas looked up and said softly, "His wife. Ardeth can endure the physical pain himself, but if Saruman attacked his wife. . .and now it's too late. Ardeth's friends will have told his wife about what happened. And the Valar would never allow him to bring Queen Celia through the portal. He had his chance, and gambled poorly." There was a thin edge of satisfaction in the young elf's voice, but Aragorn didn't comment on it. Like everyone else in the Fellowship, Legolas lost something, because of Saruman and Sauron.  
  
"He gambled poorly, indeed, and now, he will pay the consequences. Indeed. . .he will pay the consequences, even if we are not the tools of that fate. Sauron does not share power. In time, he will turn against Saruman, and then my old friend will be the one abandoned to torment and death," Gandalf answered. Aragorn was startled, for in the Istari's words, he heard an echo of his own, speaking of Merry and Pippin.  
  
However, Legolas was not finished. He said, his voice soft with wonder, "Then Saruman fell prey to the same seduction as Isildur, as Boromir, as anyone who has ever carried the Ring. The possessor becomes the possessed." Aragorn, remembering that moment when the Ring called his name, when he parted with Frodo, could only nod. Legolas went on, "He thinks he can control Sauron, or at least work as his partner, when the truth is, Sauron controls the strings. The betrayer will be betrayed."  
  
Gandalf removed the pipe from his mouth and said softly, "An elf of less than three thousand years shows more wisdom than an Istari even older than I. Yes, Legolas, that is all true. And that is yet something else, another common thread between our quest and Ardeth's story. Like Saruman, these foolish men who raised Imhotep and almost destroyed an entire family thought they could control the uncontrollable. It is a common failing, among Men, among dwarves, among elves, and among Istari."  
  
"He is worried about his wife," Aragorn said quietly, thinking about that part of Ardeth's story. Yes. He feared the Legacy, and what it could do. The ranger couldn't blame him. The others looked at him quickly, and Aragorn explained, "He grew more anxious when he told us about this Legacy to which his lady wife belonged. He fears them. He fears for his wife, as well as his children. But this Legacy. . .he fears they will yet destroy his family. His people. Everything that matters to him. While he is gone."  
  
"Will he be able to do what must be done, Gandalf? His physical injuries aside, can we count on the lad? If he is distracted by his concern for his wife, warranted though it may be, I fear he will fail in whatever task the Valar have in mind for him," Gimli put in. Aragorn didn't agree. Ardeth Bey, whatever else he was or was not, was a warrior. And warriors could focus on the battles at hand.  
  
"You underestimate him, Gimli. Many times, Ardeth Bey has ridden into battle, knowing that his wife faced opposition at home. There were many among his people who disapproved of his choice in brides, and some who tried to change his mind before the marriage. By fair means or foul. They still exist within his nation. But Ardeth trusts his wife. He has faith in her. And that is what allows him to do what must be done," Gandalf replied.  
  
Aragorn was on the point of adding his own agreement, when Legolas questioned, "Why would he face opposition for his choice in brides?" The elf paused, then struggled to continue, "She is brave and strong. Strong enough to face her husband's enemies and keep silent, when she longed to scream in protest. And she certainly is comely. Why would his people object to her as his wife?"  
  
"She is not Med-jai, Legolas. Celia. . .she uses no title, though her guards call her their queen. She is of another nation. It is no different, Legolas, than someone objecting to a match between a human from Rohan and from Gondor. She was not born a Med-jai, and there are some who accuse her. . .and Ardeth. . .of polluting the pure blood of the Med-jai. However. The Med-jai is made up of many nations," Gandalf explained.  
  
Rohan and Gondor. Or an elf and a human. Aragorn's throat tightened at this reminder of Arwen. He was given little time to consider this further. Gandalf was continuing, "And as I said, Ardeth trusts Celia to do what must be done in his absence. In turn, he trusts his mother, his younger brother, his sisters, to look out for Celia. Something else I saw in his mind. In the beginning, Ardeth's mother had her misgivings about Celia, but she has come to accept her daughter by marriage."  
  
There was a silence, as Aragorn continued to struggle against the memories of his parting. He still wasn't sure if he did the right thing in convincing Arwen to depart for Valinor. What was the kindest, most loving, most unselfish thing to have done? Convincing her to go, or trusting in her judgment? Then Gimli broke the silence by asking, "What awaits us in Edoras?" The ranger looked at his long-time friend, then, curious about the answer to this question himself. Gandalf didn't answer at first. Instead, he motioned Legolas to place Ardeth back on the ground. The elf prince did so, without even awakening their new ally.  
  
Once Legolas gave the white wizard his undivided attention, Gandalf answered, "Not a warm welcome, I can grant you. As I've said in the past, Saruman has many spies, many pairs of eyes, many hands aiding him. He put many people in positions of power. And some serve him unwittingly. This is, and is not, the case in Rohan. There is very little you can actually do. It is as it was in Moria. Swords will be of little use. Theoden King is enspelled." This did not sound promising, but Aragorn was nothing if not stubborn.  
  
Moreover, Gandalf was not yet finished. He continued, his blue eyes twinkling in a familiar way, "However. We have another weapon, in addition to magic. You will agree, I believe, that deception can be a powerful weapon in and of itself." Aragorn could hardly deny that, as Saruman's deception was, at one time, his most powerful tool against the Fellowship, before it became the Fellowship.  
  
Satisfied, Gandalf went on, "What I propose is a little deception of our own. Underestimating a foe can often be a dangerous business. An old man. . .a dwarf. . .and a wounded man. Only two who could truly be dangerous." Aragorn looked over at the wizard, who was smiling slyly. Gandalf went on, "Add to that, the enmity between dwarves and elves, and it would be very easy indeed to underestimate us. I believe we should take advantage of that misjudgment."  
  
Aragorn worked it through in his mind, and when he came to the other side, he looked up at Legolas. His best friend was smiling, his eyes shining with mischief. An expression that was as dangerous coming from the prince of Mirkwood as it was from either of Aragorn's foster brothers, Elladan or Elrohir. The ranger looked over at Gimli, who was practically bouncing off the trees in his excitement, then looked back at Gandalf, answering, "Do tell us more, Gandalf!" Smiling wickedly, the Istari did just that. 


	6. A Tale of Two Worlds

ARGH! Okay, take two. For some reason, it didn't save properly the first time, and everything was lost. Fortunately, the original was still up in its Word Perfect format.  
  
Reviews! Oh, wow! Five! That's so cool! (excited little bounce)  
  
Aria-hannah: Well, I have plenty of Mummy fics written, with more on the way. I'm working on LOTR fic, 'Silent Guardian,' and a POTC fic, 'Blood Bonds,' which is based on the theory that Bootstrap Bill escaped his watery grave long before his son shattered the curse. This story will be movie verse, since I've not yet read the books. That's why I'm putting off posting 'Silent Guardian.' I wanna read the books, to fill in some blanks.  
  
Kitrazzle Fayn: Oooh, someone after my own heart in the weapon of underestimation! I love it when Gandalf's in his sly and cunning role. . .he's so cool like that. I also love it when he's in his kick-butt mode. That's even more cool.  
  
Sailor Elf: Why, thank you, my dear! Hopefully, it will get more and more curious in this chapter, especially with regards to the 'rescue mission.'  
  
Mommints: Wow! High praise indeed from one of the queens of Mummy fic, along with such writers as Ruse. You are among the best, in terms of plot, characterizations, and in terms of the times. I'll try to keep weaving in references to Ardeth and Celia's past, so you'll continue to feel in place while reading this.  
  
Terreis: (blushing) How do I do it? Mmm. . .maybe fifteen years of experience in writing, combined with watching both 'The Mummy Returns' and 'The Two Towers' repeatedly? And I'm so glad you like my characterization of Legolas, as this is how I see him. Check out the latest addition to my favorite author's list, Darma Druid, whose stories I devoured in a single weekend. "Fortress Around The Heart" and "The Glass Sandal" are two of my favorites. I swear, you'll never hear that Sting song again without thinking of Legolas!  
  
Okay, in this chapter, we have Ardeth's loved ones plotting a rescue mission, Legolas and Gimli bantering, Gimli struggling with his suspicion of Ardeth, and Saruman trying to figure out what the hell went wrong.  
  
Part Five  
  
This could not be happening!  
  
Saruman the White stared in disbelief as the young Med-jai fought his Uruk-hai with movements that were graceful despite his pain. The wizard cried out, not for the first time, "You young fool, you were brought here to aid me, not those damnable hobbits!" Ardeth Bey, however, ignored him (if he could, indeed, hear him, which was not particularly likely). Instead, he continued to fight for the two Halflings, until the moment he was slammed into a tree.  
  
At that point, Saruman could watch no more. Fangorn Forest haunted him. All those trees. If they ever learned of the trees he tore down. . .it wasn't particularly likely, however. The Ents in Fangorn Forest were unconcerned with whatever went on in the world. Even so, looking into the ancient forest made Saruman uneasy. Very uneasy. So he turned his attention away from the unconscious Med-jai, and back to the distant future.  
  
The spell that brought Ardeth Bey to Middle Earth could not be cast a second time, and as Gandalf already knew, Saruman's chance to destroy Ardeth's humanity was gone. That didn't stop the betrayer from watching the O'Connells head back to Tiri for the unpleasant task of telling the Med- jai queen about her husband's fate. He should have taken her instead, and used her against Ardeth, but there was no help for it now.  
  
Never mind. Saruman had other ways of destroying this Fellowship, or what remained of it. He knew they would be passing through Rohan soon, saw the confrontation between the Rohirrim and the trio who tracked the halflings. That was fine. That was fine, indeed. Once they were in Rohan, his puppet king and Grima Wormatongue could deal with them.  
  
He ignored the niggling fear and doubt that crept in his soul when he thought about Aragorn, son of Arathorn. He was no more than a ranger, a human whose weakness led him to abandon his birthright, his legacy. There was no reason in the world for Saruman to fear him. He was Istari, and the ranger was only a human. A human with elves and dwarves as allies, among others. He could be dangerous.  
  
But no more. Saruman allowed no threats to his power or his alliance with Sauron. He did not allow Eomer to be a threat. Grima did well. Saruman kept Grima's loyalty by promising the young Shieldmaiden, Eowyn, to him. But the white wizard had not yet determined if he would reward the loyalty of the king's adviser. Saruman was a very practical man. If Grima betrayed Theoden King so easily, then would he not betray Saruman with equal ease?  
  
He would think on that. Ardeth's betrayal stung, though he tried to blot out thoughts of the young warrior. He needed a distraction. Saruman frowned thoughtfully and waved his hand. He wanted to see if the O'Connells arrived back in Tiri yet. Perhaps the young queen would remember all the times O'Connell caused harm to her husband. If she shed his blood, that might remove the opposition to bringing her.  
  
The O'Connells were now approaching the gates of Tiri. They were ancient gates, which remained solid and strong even after three thousand years. Shakir Bey and his Med-jai brought stones from the caves when they first built the city. They did it alone, for they were not permitted to bring Hebrew slaves with them. That was not an edict of Rameses, but Shakir Bey's decision. The concubine Ardath was raised by the Hebrew slaves. Other slaves would be a living reminder of their other great failure.  
  
And yet, he had a living reminder in his small adopted son, five year old Ardeth. The little boy carried the name of his birth mother, and even at such a young age, he already resembled his birth father closely. A living, breathing reminder of a young woman whom the Med-jai loved and whom they could not save. Saruman could see that young girl now, and was stunned by the resemblance between her and the Med-jai queen.  
  
They had the same spirit. That was the reason for the resemblance between the concubine and the queen. Ardath was reborn as Cecelia Ferguson Bey. That meant, in turn, that Rameses was reborn as Ardeth Bey. Rameses, whose grief and rage set in motion the events that led to the casting of the hom-dai, and other atrocities. Saruman struck the table with his fist, once more enraged by his failure to turn Ardeth, as he planned. The boy was never even supposed to land near the Uruk-hai carrying the Halflings to him, much less near Fangorn Forest! Saruman's spell was very specific!  
  
And that meant someone, or something, was interfering with his spells. Saruman breathed deeply, concentrating on the problem at hand. Someone was interfering with his spells. It could not be Gandalf. Even if he survived his battle with the Balrog, he was still only a grey wizard. Saruman was a white wizard. . .infinitely more powerful. Gandalf had not the power to interfere with the spell that brought Ardeth Bey here. Then who? Who else would have the power and the intention of one of his spells?  
  
It was a flawless plan. Everything was done exactly it was meant to be done. Ardeth had it within him to be turned. Every Man did, after all. The Steward of Gondor was turned, though he did not realize it. The King of Rohan was turned. What was so special about one chieftain? Particularly a chieftain who was the reincarnation of a mad pharaoh? *I will learn the truth,* Saruman swore, *and when I do, I will make sure this being never interferes again!*  
  
The possibility that a greater Being than himself would be interested in the plight of a simple young chieftain from the distant future never even occurred to him. Then again, many things never even occurred to Saruman the White. And it was these things that would, in the end, spell his doom.  
  
. . .  
  
Garai knew, even before the queen, that the O'Connells were back. . .and they were back without his chieftain. He knew this because Nicodemus was still the watch-guard at the gate. Word was sent back to the older Med- jai. Nicodemus didn't say that something happened to Ardeth. It didn't need to be said. But Garai wanted to be at his queen's side when the O'Connells told the story.  
  
Fifteen minutes after Garai received that message, he was assembled in the Council Hall with the queen, the Elders, the O'Connells, and Imhotep. Terrible chaos reigned for the first few moments. Mainly because most of the Elders had no idea that Ardeth even left for the caves so soon after his return. However, the Elder Aric called all to order, with a sympathetic look to the stone-faced queen. After only two years of marriage, Celia was not yet a Council member, and thus, lacked the authority to call the meeting to order. If, indeed, you could call this a meeting.  
  
The ever-present ghost of Anck-su-namun hovered near her best friend, glancing at Imhotep ever so often. Garai wondered what the concubine was thinking. He knew that she swore to remain at Celia's side until his queen died. Then she would go into the Afterlife, so they could be reborn together. There was a comfort in that, Garai decided. Anck was ever devoted to Ardath in their lifetime, and she grew to love Ardath's reincarnation as much as she loved her sister-concubine.  
  
Evelyn O'Connell was looking around, distinctly worried. Of course she was. Never, in all of her previous visits to the Med-jai city, did she ever visit the Council Hall. It was a sign of just how worried she was that she never even spoke as Rick O'Connell haltingly explained what happened at the caves, once he was given leave to speak. He even told of his attack against Ardeth while under the control of this ancient and malignant force. He left nothing out. Made no attempt to play down his role in this entire situation, if you could, indeed, call it a role.  
  
This, Garai realized after a glance at the American. But one glance was all he spared the other man. The rest of the time, he watched his queen, fearing for her. How would she deal with this? It was unlike any other test she and Ardeth faced over the last two years. Yes, there were times when he left on patrols and she governed in his place. But in the past, they knew, more or less, where Ardeth was. This time, they had no idea.  
  
In addition, they were planning a grand celebration this night, a celebration of the return of their warriors. Ardeth didn't plan to attend, as he was investigating the sacred caves. Whether the celebration would even continue, no one knew. Garai highly doubted that. . .the disappearance of their chieftain would cast a pall over the festivities. However, he would worry about that later. His queen would have need of him.  
  
And Celia's first test came before Garai expected, and from a source he should have expected. There was a snort, and all eyes turned toward the source. Garai almost groaned. Yes, he should have seen this coming. The bad blood between O'Connell and this man went back many years, and would likely last another several decades. Neither could accept that the other cared deeply for Ardeth.  
  
"You dare to lie, O'Connell? I am not a fool, I know your resentment of Ardeth Bey! We are simply supposed to believe that a white-haired man dragged Ardeth into. . .Asu knows where, dragged by a rope of flame? What kinds of fools do you take us for?" a voice demanded in English. Garai sighed and looked toward the source of the voice. But to his surprise, Imhotep actually looked angry, shocked, and frightened.  
  
Garai was expecting the anger, especially given the history between the high priest and the American Med-jai. The shock was a surprise. . .given Imhotep's own past, Garai would have thought nothing could surprise the former mummy. And the fear was even more of a surprise. Yes, Garai knew that Imhotep cared for Ardeth, hard as Imhotep fought it in the beginning. But. . .for Imhotep to actually seem frightened? The former mummy continued, "I will not believe such lies. I know deception when I see it!"  
  
"Yeah, you would. . .you're real good at deceiving other people. How many years did you diddle Pharaoh's mistress behind his back, huh?" O'Connell fired back, his eyes flashing. Garai winced, though he could hardly blame the American. Imhotep had no room to talk. . .and O'Connell had a longer history with Ardeth. There was that shining time when the magic circle was complete. But O'Connell was not Terumun. More was the pity, but Garai was careful to keep that to himself.  
  
Imhotep exhibited no such restraint. He stalked over to O'Connell, who didn't budge, not even when the high priest growled out, "You speak of things you do not understand, O'Connell, but that is the normal situation with you. You are not a worthy vessel for the spirit of Terumun! That man was my friend, as was Rameses. You think I have not tried to convince myself for the last two years that Ardeth Bey is not Rameses reborn? I have. Oh, I have, but those are lies. . .just as you tell us lies now!"  
  
"Imhotep, *have done!* He does not lie, I can see the truth in his eyes and hear it in his voice!" came the commanding voice of the queen. The voice and inflections belonged to Celia, but the words were pure Lady Ardath. Imhotep blinked and turned back to the young woman, who rose to her feet. She was dressed in her ceremonial robes, as befitting the wife of the Med-jai chieftain. A marked change from the jeans and t-shirt she was wearing fifteen minutes earlier, when Garai found her cleaning house.  
  
"Rick is telling the truth. I would tell Imhotep to put a sock in it, so we can figure out how to get Ardeth back, but I don't think we can bring him back. I don't even know how that thing works, aside from a portal," Evelyn spoke up, for the first time since the beginning of the meeting. Anck looked first at Evelyn, then at Rick, and the reincarnated princess turned to the ghost, saying, "Anck, you can see what others cannot."  
  
At this, Imhotep turned to his former love, who nodded almost reluctantly. She said softly, "Evelyn and O'Connell speak truly. I can see into their minds. I see what happened to Ardeth, and every word is true. The only thing O'Connell has left out is how he struggled against this violation. Evelyn is also correct when she says there is no way for us to retrieve Ardeth. We know not where he was taken."  
  
"This isn't like when Lock-nah and Nizam Toth kidnapped us. There is no way we can track him. Anck-su-namun cannot follow where they went. I understand this, better than you realize, Imhotep. On the other hand. . .we have magick of our own. Imhotep, I want you to return to those caves with Rick and Evy. Anck, go with them. See what you can. . .sense. Even if we can't open this portal, maybe we can figure out a way to at least see through the portal," Celia observed. Garai blinked in surprise. That never occurred to him, and he wasn't so sure it was a good idea. He wasn't the only one.  
  
"I would willingly die for you and Ardeth, little queen. You know that. But what you suggest is folly! We cannot track him. And even with our own magick, there is no way we can bring him home! We know not where he was taken, what kind of magick took him! I cannot fight a magick I do not know!" Imhotep exclaimed. There was a swish of black as Celia turned to face him, her eyes flashing with rage. She advanced on the high priest, ignoring that he was several inches taller and far more powerful.  
  
"And what would you have me do, Imhotep? Sit here and weep, 'woe is me?' Perhaps tell my children that their father is lost to us, perhaps forever? I cannot *do* that, something *you* know very well! I repeat, this is not like the days Ardeth and I spent as the captives of Lock-nah and Nizam Toth. I am not pregnant this time, my life is not in mortal danger. However, my husband's life may very well be in danger, even in the best case scenario, and I will not sit back and do nothing!" she retorted.  
  
There was a murmur of approval from the Elders, but Garai chose to ignore them. He was more concerned with the ramifications of what Celia was proposing. He ran through her 'plan' in his mind, trying to find flaws. There were many, but at the same time, what other choice did they have? What else could they do?  
  
Anck-su-namun spoke up, using English a bit awkwardly, "Celia speaks truly. Even if we cannot aid Ardeth, perhaps we could see where he was taken. Imhotep. . .at Ahm Shere, you begged for help. Hanging on the edge of the world, in danger of falling into the chasm. Would you truly deny Ardeth the aid you sought?" She was taking a terrible chance in reminding Imhotep of that day. She knew that. But Garai also knew that Anck-su- namun thought it was a worthy sacrifice to be made.  
  
"That was different!" Imhotep hissed, glaring at the ghost. She trembled slightly, but held her ground. There was very little he could do to her, though he was Keeper of the Dead. Imhotep continued, obviously frustrated, "There is nothing we can do to aid Ardeth! Nothing! And if we attempted such a folly, then we would draw the attention of this evil to ourselves! Little queen, I do not fear for myself! But if you draw his attention to you. . .I fear not for myself, I fear for you, and I fear for the children. I fear that this may become a situation like the abduction. This evil, he will quickly realize that if he has you in his grasp, he can use you against Ardeth. I will not allow that to happen!"  
  
"You were not listening to Celia a moment ago, High Priest," Evelyn cut in. Imhotep glared at her, but like Anck, the Englishwoman held her ground. It occurred to Garai that his chieftain was surrounded by brave women, both living and dead. Perhaps they were being foolhardy, but Garai could hardly ignore the fact that they were coming up with a plan that was crazy enough to work.  
  
Garai learned through the years that sometimes, crazy plans succeeded just because they shouldn't work. He listened intently as the reincarnated princess continued, "She never suggested that she would attempt this. Only those with the power to make the attempt. Celia, after all, is not a fool. . .nor did she marry one. Celia. I have no magick. But I would help if I could."  
  
"You are incorrect, Evelyn," Anck said, reverting to ancient Egyptian, "and I believe if we work together, we can learn something of Ardeth's fate together. You do remember the old ways. Not just the skills I taught Nefertiri, but she was the daughter of Pharaoh. Thus, she learned from the magicians, just as Rameses. . .just as I did. True enough, I did not know as much as Imhotep, but I learned enough to aid in Hamunaptra."  
  
"That you did," Evelyn replied in the same language, then she turned to her husband. O'Connell didn't look happy. But he nodded once, sharply. Evelyn turned her attention to Celia, saying, "Then we'll go together. All of us. And anyone else who could help. Celia, Rick suggested seeking out Galen. I know he's a doctor, but he has lived here for most of his life. Do you think you can contact him?"  
  
"Consider it done," Nicodemus said suddenly, "a falcon has already been sent to Dr Ferguson." The queen blinked in surprise, and the young Med-jai added with a shrug, "I feared the worst when the O'Connells returned without the chieftain, my queen. I took the opportunity to send a falcon to your brother. If nothing else, I believed you would need his support. He has made it very clear that he would do anything for you."  
  
Celia Bey smiled then, the first smile since the news about Ardeth came, and said, "You have my thanks, Nicodemus. As soon as my brother arrives, send him straight to the house. All right. Rick, Evy, how soon can you leave? Would be tomorrow give you enough to assemble whatever supplies you might need?" Both nodded, and Celia continued, "All right. Garai, I want them to have an escort to the caves."  
  
"That will not be necessary, little queen," Imhotep sighed. The young woman raised an eyebrow questioning, and the high priest continued, "I will go with them. You are damnably stubborn, and perhaps even foolhardy, but I cannot allow this expedition to go into such a dangerous situation alone. Ardeth would never forgive me. . .and though I pretend otherwise, that does matter to me. I do ask, however, that I take my servant with me. One simply never knows when I might need his aid." His servant? Oh yes. Beni Gabor, Acacia's new husband.  
  
O'Connell looked to be on the verge of protesting, but an icy glare from Celia silenced him quickly. She looked back at Imhotep, replying, "You have my permission, but I would ask permission of his wife as well. Acacia will wish to accompany you, Imhotep, and I suggest you come up with a good reason to say 'no,' if you do not wish for that to happen." A familiar, impish smile appeared, and Garai chuckled softly. She was right, and they all knew it. Acacia would want to accompany her husband, especially if she thought her brother needed her.  
  
Imhotep rolled his eyes and bowed his head, murmuring, "As you wish, my teacher." It was Celia's turn to roll her eyes, then she sat down once more. Imhotep paused a moment, then asked, "Celia? What do you wish done about the celebration tonight?" The queen frowned, and Imhotep elaborated, "Do you wish the celebration to continue?" Everyone, including the Elders who were quietly talking, fell silent at that.  
  
"The celebration continues," Celia answered simply. There was an immediate protest, this time from the Elders, and Celia raised her voice, repeating, "The celebration *will* continue! In the first place, it's what Ardeth wanted. In the second place, it's what I wish. If we cancel the celebration tonight, that's giving this monster one more victory. He won one round when he took Ardeth from us. I'll not give him another!"  
  
There was a long silence as the Elders took this under advisement. Once more, Aric rose to his feet, saying, "Our chieftain's wife has spoken the truth. Ardeth would not wish us to cancel or even delay this celebration. We are Med-jai, are we not? We have known sacrifice and suffering from the beginning. And that taught us to take joy and laughter where we could find them. If we ignore those lessons, we betray our chieftain. The celebration will continue."  
  
One by one, each of the Elders nodded. Garai watched their faces. They would have made an issue of it. Some of them at least, the ones who still resented their chieftain's American wife. But Aric was still one of them. He touched his forehead, his lips, his chest, and Celia reciprocated. This was the signal for them to leave. And one by one, they all filed out of the Hall. . .Imhotep, the O'Connells, the elders, and the few Med-jai commanders who were present in Tiri. . .until the only ones left were Celia, Garai, and Anck-su-namun. The young queen sighed deeply and leaned forward until she could rest her face in her hands.  
  
Garai was waiting for this. He knew it was coming. The old Med-jai quietly approached his mistress, then knelt in front of her, putting his hand on her shoulder. Celia didn't look up, only murmured, "Was I convincing, Garai?" She raised her face from her hands, and Garai wasn't surprised by the tears running down her face. Yes, he rather thought this would happen once everyone left. He didn't answer, only shifted until he could put his arms around her. She leaned into him, her shoulders shaking with sobs suppressed for far too long.  
  
"None suspected, little sister," Anck replied, speaking once more in ancient Egyptian. She took up position on Celia's other side. Garai looked up, and saw the frustration on the face of the concubine. He understood the reason for the frustration, too. She could not touch Celia, and it was driving her mad. The concubine continued, "I was the only one who saw how you struggled to keep from weeping. And it reminded me once more that you were always the strong one. . .how often I took strength from you."  
  
"We were strong for each other, my sister, you know that," Celia answered in the same language, lifting her face from Garai's chest. She wiped away her tears with the back of her hand, then shifted back to English as she said, "Garai, I would ask you to remain with me a little longer. Altair deserves to hear this from family. I do not understand why she was not among the other Elders." She shook her head with a confused frown.  
  
"There is no need for you to find me, my daughter. I am here," Altair said softly. Garai actually knew that, but he kept it from his queen. She had enough to worry about. The queen mother of the Med-jai emerged from the shadows. The two women regarded each other for a long time, then Altair smiled sadly at her daughter-in-law, telling her, "My son would have been proud of you, Cecelia. I know I am."  
  
Garai struggled to hide his surprise. Never in the two years of Celia's marriage to Ardeth did his mother speak so. But never before did Celia need to hear it so much. The queen mother walked slowly to her daughter-in-law's side and put her hand on Celia's shoulder. The young queen drew in a deep, shuddering breath, then released it. She raised her eyes to her mother-in-law, who added with an impish smile, "And I was particularly impressed with your 'have done.' It shocked the Creature, I could tell."  
  
Garai fancied he could see steam rolling out of Anck's ears at this reference to her former lover, but that was exactly what Imhotep was for the thirty-five years Altair spent among the Med-jai before Imhotep's third and final rising. The habits of thirty-plus years could not be swept away in merely two years time. And not all of the Med-jai even tried to call him by name, as the Bey family did. Many who did not accept his redemption and attempts at atonement.  
  
Celia smiled wearily and replied, "Yes, well, that just popped into my mind. She whispered that it would get his attention, because he wasn't expecting it." No need to explain whom 'she' was, as everyone in the room knew whom Celia meant. . .both living and dead. The girl added after a moment, "Altair, we don't have much of a chance. But I figured it was better than doing nothing." Now her American accent was returning, along with her American phraseology. That also didn't surprise Garai.  
  
Altair replied, kneeling in front of her daughter-in-law, "No one can know these things, my daughter. The so-called 'sure things' are rarely that, and the so-called 'long-shots' make all the difference in the world. You have done well today, even without our mother's aid. I never thought I would hear myself say such a thing of Imhotep, but the objections he raised were truly raised out of love for you and for my son."  
  
"I know. Altair, would you do something for me? Would you go in my place tonight? I originally planned to go in Ardeth's place. . .his request. But this is one time I can't carry it out. I just don't have the energy tonight, and I have a feeling I'll need all of my energy over the next few days," Celia requested. Oh, good. She was being sensible instead of heroic! That made Garai's job all the easier!  
  
Altair took Celia's hands in her own and kissed the inside of each wrist, then replied, "Of course I will, daughter. I was about to make such a suggestion to you. Garai. . .take my daughter-in-law back to her home. I will be along in a few moments with the children." The two Bey children, Andreas and Miranda, were at their grandmother's house during the Council meeting. Garai inclined his head to the queen mother, then helped the exhausted queen to her feet. One thing was certain. The next few days were likely to be difficult.  
  
. . .  
  
Time does not correspond exactly. Thus, as Garai was escorting Celia from the Council Hall, Ardeth was awakening in Middle Earth. He opened his eyes, groaning a little under his breath as a dull pain reverberated through his body. At first, he didn't understand why he was lying on the ground, instead of in his bed with Celia. . .then the memories started to filter through. This time, his groan wasn't under his breath.  
  
However, it didn't wake his sleeping companions. Perhaps that was due to the snoring of the dwarf. . .Gimli, wasn't it? Yes, Gimli. His snoring rather reminded Ardeth of one of the Med-jai elders. The young man grinned, remembering how he learned that the distinguished Elder Hassan snored. It was just after Imhotep's first rising, and Ardeth traveled from Hamunaptra to one of the other tribes. He was still wobbly from his injuries, and his mother insisted that he take a companion with him.  
  
It was thus that the twenty-six year old chieftain learned something that would stay with him for the rest of his life. He was the chieftain of the Twelve Tribes of the Med-jai. But no matter how old he was or what else happened in his life, his mother would always be his mother, and arguing with a mother simply wasn't done. Altair C Costas Bey was quite capable of smacking him if she thought he was being unreasonable.  
  
To forestall any further arguments with the woman who gave him life, Ardeth agreed to take Hassan with him. . .and wished he argued further with his mother. He slept barely at all, kept awake by Hassan's snoring. The older man sounded rather like a train rumbling along. Worse yet, he denied that he snored. Wouldn't believe Ardeth's claims, and instead told the young chieftain that he was dreaming about trains or perhaps the collapse of Hamunaptra.  
  
Ardeth grinned once more and looked around at his companions. The wizard, Gandalf, was awake, after all. His eyes shifted to Ardeth, then to Gimli, then returned to Ardeth. A mischievous. . .devilish, even. . .expression appeared in the old man's eyes. The chieftain had no idea what Gandalf meant to do, but he didn't need to know. It was all he could do to keep from laughing outright as Gandalf prodded the dwarf's backside with his jeweled staff.  
  
It didn't wake Gimli. Nor did it induce him to turn over. Gandalf rolled his eyes in exasperation, and Ardeth compressed his lips, trying not to laugh. The wizard glared at him, though his eyes were sparkling with laughter, and waved his staff at Ardeth in a mock-threatening way. The chieftain almost lost control of his mirth at that point, but managed to choke it back just in time.  
  
To make this easier, Ardeth looked at their companions. Aragorn slept a few yards away, curled on his side, his hand gripping his sword even in his sleep. Across from Ardeth, Legolas reclined against a tree, his eyes fixed on the tree where Ardeth lay. Oh, perhaps he was awake after all. Then another rumbling snore was heard from Gimli, and Legolas' body jerked. He blinked, then shook himself. A wry smile touched his mouth when he beheld the snoring dwarf.  
  
For a second time, Gandalf extended his staff toward Gimli's rump. This time, the jewel was poked just a little harder, and Gimli awoke with a yell. He was on his feet, brandishing his axe. The commotion woke Aragorn, who bolted upright, his sword at the ready. Ardeth couldn't hold back his laughter any longer. He collapsed back against his makeshift pillows, laughing helplessly as tears of mirth and pain ran down his face.  
  
He wasn't the only one. Through his tears, Ardeth could see Legolas shaking with laughter as well. Aragorn sighed and put down his sword, murmuring something to Legolas in a language Ardeth couldn't understand. The elf was still laughing, but managed a response that Aragorn found comprehensible. The man shook his head, barely keeping back a smile of his own. However, his eyes were twinkling with mischief. Gimli was finally subsiding, though he continued to shoot glares at both Legolas and Gandalf. Since the dwarf was none the worse for wear, Aragorn joined Ardeth.  
  
"I will not ask if you are in pain. . .that would be a foolish question as of now," the man observed. Ardeth caught his breath, then sucked in his breath again as his body made it known to him that it didn't care for the way he treated it in the last few minutes. Aragorn rested his hand on Ardeth's shoulder, then said, "Let me check your wound, Ardeth. Legolas, come help me." The elf finally stopped laughing long enough to join Aragorn at Ardeth's side. There was a hint of apology in the bright blue eyes, but Ardeth shook his head. There was no need for Legolas to apologize to him.  
  
"Sleep with one eye open, Master Elf, for I will strike when you least expect it!" Gimli blustered. The elf's lips twitched, but he didn't answer. Gimli paid no mind, for he was now ranting at Gandalf. Which, to Ardeth's mind, wasn't exactly the wisest course of action. After all, Gandalf *was* a wizard, and a powerful one. To say nothing of being very, very old, if Ardeth's hazy memory of his journey here was correct.  
  
Legolas at last called over his shoulder, his lips still twitching, "I already sleep with both eyes open, Gimli, you should know that by now." Ardeth couldn't help himself. . .he blinked in surprise. Legolas noted his reaction and explained, "My apologies, Ardeth. . .elves customarily sleep with their eyes open. And that was well done on your part, to keep silent in such a way." Gimli was cut off in mid-diatribe.  
  
"Ardeth! You knew and said nothing to warn me, lad?!" the dwarf demanded. Aragorn turned to face Gimli, who immediately said, "Oh. Of course. My apologies, lad, you did not deserve that. However, this pointy- eared menace is another story!" He glowered at Legolas, who simply turned his attention back to Ardeth's wound.  
  
Which looked considerably better than it did the day before. . .or was it two days? Ardeth's sense of time was gone. Gandalf said, speaking for the first time, "Do not blame Ardeth or Legolas, Gimli, I merely wished you to turn over before you awoke all of Middle Earth with your snoring." Gimli began to sputter, no doubt to tell Gandalf that he did *not* snore.  
  
However, Legolas interjected, "Indeed, Gimli, I cannot think how Aragorn managed to sleep. I am sure you kept Ardeth awake for hours with that infernal noise." At this, Legolas winked at Ardeth. While it was a strange gesture from an elven prince, Ardeth already realized that Legolas was mischievous. So it fit in perfectly with his personality. On the other hand, Legolas was the first elf Ardeth met, so maybe all elves were that mischievous.  
  
"Practice, Legolas, much practice," Aragorn answered, then told Gandalf, "His wound looks better, but it will require time for him to regain his strength." Ardeth glared at the other man. . .he was still here and he was still fully conscious! Aragorn looked back at him, adding apologetically, "Forgive me, Ardeth, but Gandalf has a plan in mind for what comes next, and he asked me to apprise him of your condition."  
  
"I see. There is nothing to forgive," Ardeth answered, for he was a leader, and did understand such reasoning. He continued after a moment, as Gandalf and Gimli both joined them, "And will my somewhat weakened condition cause greater trouble in the fight ahead?" Gandalf leaned over to inspect his wound, muttering under his breath. Ardeth valiantly fought his desire to squirm, for he hated being the center of attention.  
  
"No, my boy. . .not at all. In fact, I think it may help us. But you must promise me, Ardeth, that you will conserve your strength until the hour comes that we need that strength. You are wounded, almost fatally so. And truthfully, for our next battle, it would be best to achieve our goals if you. . .played up that injury," Gandalf explained. Ardeth tilted his head to one side, running possible scenarios through his mind.  
  
"You wish our foe to underestimate us?" Ardeth asked at last, when the pieces fit together. Gandalf smiled then. . .a smile Celia would have described as 'rattish,' if she was there. It was an expression similar to one O'Connell wore in the past, and that was always how Ardeth's wife described it. The wizard nodded, and Ardeth smiled coldly. This was something he understood very well, and he asked, "Shall I pretend to be on death's door, then? Or merely recovering my strength?"  
  
"The second option is the best, though it would prove to be a greater surprise if you were seemingly close to death," Aragorn admitted. He looked at Ardeth closely, adding in an almost paternal tone, "Are you certain that you will be fit for this mission, Ardeth? As Gandalf said, you were wounded, a wound that could have proven fatal." Ardeth frowned a little, not at the obvious concern, or at the true words.  
  
"I am a warrior in my own right, and the chieftain of my people. I am not a fool. Nor am I a child," the young man answered quietly. Aragorn looked sheepish and dipped his head in acknowledgement. Ardeth continued, "Do not think I am ungrateful, for I am not. But I am not accustomed to men the same age as my late brother questioning my fitness in battle." Aragorn smiled, most unexpectedly.  
  
"I am far older than you think me. I have lived more than seventy years, and indeed old enough to be your father," the man answered. Seventy years? Ardeth was grateful for small favors, for his mouth did not fall open with surprise. Aragorn added, smiling more broadly, "Yes, young one, I speak the truth. I have elven blood, as well as human, and thus, I age at a slower rate. I still age. . .and I will still die. But physically, I have the appearance of a man in his late thirties or early forties."  
  
"I have not yet seen three thousand years, but there are elves far older than myself. My own father. . .Lord Elrond of Rivendell. . .Galadriel and Celeborn of Lothlorien, among others," Legolas added. Now Ardeth's jaw *did* drop, and Legolas continued with a faint smile, "May I guess, then, that none of your time live to such ages? How old are you, then, Ardeth Bey?" Three thousand years? While Ardeth was, of course, familiar with the saying about judging a book based on its cover, Legolas looked to be no more than twenty-two or twenty-three.  
  
Ardeth was so stunned by this revelation that he answered, "I am thirty-two, born in the Gregorian year 1969. My wife is three years younger than I. Three thousand years?" He supposed he shouldn't be so surprised, not after the discovery that there were elves in this world, in this time. Elves, dwarves, orcs, walking and talking trees, hobbits, and evil wizards who could draw a man back more than thirty thousand years into the past. After all this, learning that his young companion was not so young as he would appear should have been nothing.  
  
"Yes. I was not yet born at the time of the war which we discussed last night, nor were Estel's elder brothers, Elrohir and Elladan," Legolas answered almost casually. Estel? Legolas looked over at Aragorn, as if in answer to Ardeth's unspoken question. Oh. The elf added, "They are his foster brothers, the sons of Lord Elrond. 'Estel' is Aragorn's elven name. Do you have a similar custom in your home, in your time?"  
  
"Sometimes," Ardeth admitted, "my wife's given name is 'Cecelia,' and that is what many of my people call her, rather than 'Celia.' Because there are so many cultures within the Med-jai, it would be very difficult to translate names. We have Egyptians, Arabs, Greeks, those of Roman descent. I speak Arabic, as do my people, but with those different cultures come different names. My younger brother's fiancee is named 'Ishtar,' of the Persians. My mother is Altair, of the Greeks. My own wife is American."  
  
He paused, remembering one attempt to 'modify' Celia's name, then added, "Such attempts have been made. There is an island, off the coast of Italy, and this island is called 'Sicily.' I am sure you can see the similarities between 'Cecelia' and 'Sicily.' My wife was not pleased with the modification." Ardeth chose to leave out the fact that his wife was seven months pregnant at this time, and in her words, feeling like a whale.  
  
She was not pleased with being compared to an island, even one so lovely as Sicily. Ardeth didn't entirely understand, not until O'Connell explained to him the meaning of the American phrase, 'big as a house.' After that, Celia's. . .distress. . .made far more sense. And curiously, it was Gimli who said, "Aye, and who can blame the lass? Twould be like saying she is the size of Gondor."  
  
Aragorn raised his eyebrows at the dwarf, a gesture that Ardeth would come to know very well over the next several days. O'Connell would have called it an 'oh really?' look, if he was here. Legolas observed, "That is not entirely what I meant. Does your wife have no special name among your people? A name they call her out of affection?" Which effectively changed the subject. Or rather, redirected the conversation back onto its original topic.  
  
"One. . .Imhotep, the one against whom the hom-dai was cast. . .he calls her 'little queen.' My mother, when she is truly feeling affectionate, calls my wife, 'Penelope,' after one of the heroines of her native land. 'Prudent Penelope,' the faithful wife of Odysseus. I sometimes call her 'Inara,' which means 'ray of light,' or 'heaven sent.' Both of which she is to me. I would prefer not to share my other names for her," Ardeth added. Those were too personal, and Aragorn nodded his understanding.  
  
And Gimli was more interested in the story of Odysseus and Penelope. So, as Aragorn and Legolas started breakfast, and Gandalf mentally prepared himself for what would come, Ardeth told the dwarf about the Trojan War, and the travails of Odysseus after Helen was returned to her husband, Menelaus. It was a story he heard many times as a child, a story that all five Bey children loved. And it was all the more thrilling to the children because their own mother was Greek. It was part of their heritage.  
  
It was as much a part of them as the stories about Horus, Isis and Osiris. They were Egyptian and Greek, and several generations earlier, Scots-Irish through Lady Ardath. It was their heritage, and Odysseus was a hero respected by the Med-jai. Though it was Gimli who asked for the tale, Ardeth was aware of Legolas and Aragorn listening with interest. He also noticed that under the dwarf's rough exterior beat the heart of a true romantic. It was not so surprising to a man who spent his entire life as a warrior and knew that people and things were far more complex than they appeared.  
  
What was curious, however, was how comfortable he felt with these men. Or rather, with this dwarf, Elf, man, and wizard. As if he knew them his entire life. Ardeth didn't feel like he belonged here. But he did feel like he belonged in this company. . .he did not feel like an outsider. Not even with O'Connell, who was perhaps his closest male friend, did he ever feel this comfortable so quickly.  
  
Respect, certainly. Exasperation. Feeling comfortable with the other man came later. As breakfast was served, and the conversation turned away from the ancient Argive heroes, Ardeth thought about O'Connell once more. Based on what he learned from Gandalf, it was likely that this Saruman the White possessed the American while they were in the cave. And it was that possession which led to the attack.  
  
"I cannot see into your world, Ardeth," Gandalf said, pitching his voice very low. Ardeth looked up from the bread provided by Legolas and Aragorn, and the wizard continued, "I cannot see with the portal shut. But I do know a few things. One, though he would rather die than admit it, Rick O'Connell loves you as fiercely as any man can love his brother. And he is just as willing to die for you as for his wife and children."  
  
Ardeth was about to ask *how* Gandalf knew that, when he remembered this old man wasn't an ordinary old man, but an ancient and powerful wizard. If Legolas was not yet three thousand years old, and Aragorn was in his seventies. . .and they both seemed to be relatively young men. . .then how old was Gandalf? Ardeth did some quick calculations in his mind. By all appearances, Legolas was in his early twenties, while Aragorn seemed to be in his forties.  
  
Gimli's age remained a mystery, but then, it had not yet come up in conversation. Gandalf, on the other hand, was obviously an old man. So. . .he had to be at least ten thousand years old, maybe even older. So, asking such questions of the wizard would be foolish, and a waste of Ardeth's breath. Seemingly satisfied that the young man would let him continue, Gandalf did so, adding, "I also know that though the portal is closed, your wife will try to find a way to bring you home safely. No matter how hopeless it seems, the attempt will be made."  
  
Ardeth looked at the wizard with wide eyes and asked almost incredulously, "I may regret asking this question, but ask it I will. How, exactly, do you know *that,* Gandalf the White?" But instead of looking exasperated, Gandalf actually looked pleased. Yes. The wizard looked pleased with him for asking. With that small revelation, Ardeth continued, not entirely sure he wanted to hear the answer yet, wanting to try for himself first, "Is it because our souls touched during the journey here?"  
  
"That plays a part, yes. I saw into your mind, into your soul. With that insight, I also gained insight with your memories. But Ardeth, I only tell you things that you already know. Her husband has been taken away from her. . .do you really expect a woman such as your wife to simply give up? There has been only one time in your married life that your wife did not come to your rescue. And that *that* was when you were both at the mercy of those monsters who abducted you and threatened your wife and unborn child. Celia is not now pregnant. Do you really think she will allow anything to stop her?" Gandalf asked.  
  
"La," Ardeth answered quietly. Gandalf learned much about Ardeth's life and about his Celia during that relatively brief time. Strange, how so much of his marriage was bound up in those hellish days when he and his wife were the captives of Lock-nah and Nizam Toth. It could have broken them for all time. . .or it could have strengthened the bond between them even further. Fortunately for him, the latter happened, rather than the former.  
  
"I cannot tell you that your wife will succeed. I believe Saruman was allowed to succeed for a reason. You were brought here, for a reason. But though your wife is doomed to failure, and I am certain she knows this for herself. . .the attempt will be made. And foolhardy though it may be, O'Connell will help her, in any way he can," Gandalf said. He paused, smiled at Ardeth almost fondly, then asked, "What does that tell you, my stubborn young friend?"  
  
"You mean aside from the fact that I am truly blessed?" Ardeth asked. Gandalf laughed, and Ardeth continued, "It also tells me that though my wife is doomed to fail when she tries to bring me home, she will try nonetheless. I can do no less than she during my time here. I will give you no half-measures, Gandalf the White. So long as I remain in Middle Earth, you shall have all of my attention and all of my loyalty."  
  
"Good lad. You left one thing out, however, in that litany of knowledge," Gandalf replied. Ardeth looked at him expectantly, and the wizard continued, "We also know that Saruman was a fool to underestimate you." Ardeth stared at the old man, then burst out laughing. Gandalf chuckled and added, "Now, then. Now that we have that settled, it's time to continue to Edoras and rescue an old friend of mine from Saruman!"  
  
. . .  
  
Ardeth wasn't the only one in the small party amazed at how well he fit. In some ways, it was frightening. He was from a different time, he had the look of one of the servants of Mordor. Saruman brought him here to destroy the remains of the Fellowship. . .worse, he was brought here to destroy a dear friend. By all rights, they should have hated him. By all rights, they should have distrusted him. By all rights, they shouldn't be sitting around the dying early morning campfire, laughing at something Gandalf said.  
  
But then, that was the way of things from the beginning. Two Men, one Elf, a grey wizard, a dwarf, and four hobbits. Old alliances were falling apart, and new ones were being made in their place. The world he always knew was changing quickly, and it was all he could do to keep up with those changes. And just when he thought he *was* catching up, here came another change. This time, in the form of a mysterious stranger whom, by all rights, they should distrust. A mysterious stranger who should have been their enemy.  
  
And yet, that was impossible. How do you hate someone who risked himself for two small beings he didn't even know? How do you hate someone who was here against his will? How do you hate someone like Ardeth Bey, much as you might want to? And despite everything that happened over the last few days, there was still a part of Gimli, son of Gloin, that *did* want to hate this newcomer.  
  
He was accepted so easily by Legolas and Aragorn. Indeed, it would not be so far from the truth to say that Aragorn saw the young man as a brother by blood he never knew he had. At the same time, Gimli felt that same pull of familiarity toward the chieftain from the future. Did he resent the boy for gaining so effortlessly what took the Fellowship weeks to forge?  
  
But. . .that was part of the problem right there. Gimli couldn't say for sure if Legolas and Aragorn *did* trust Ardeth. He couldn't say that at all. He could say that Gandalf trusted the warrior. . .and that would be truth. But. . .and here, Gimli stopped. While Legolas and Aragorn might not trust Ardeth, they *did* trust Gandalf. Gandalf trusted the warrior. And perhaps that was what made the difference.  
  
On the other hand. . .Gandalf was not the same man. . .the same *wizard,* rather. . .that they remembered. He died and came back to life once more. That would change any being. Gandalf said softly, "Fear me not, Gimli." The dwarf froze, then looked over at the wizard. Gandalf simply regarded him with those all-knowing eyes. There was no sadness or rancor. Only the wise and powerful being Gimli had come to know.  
  
And again, he said, "Fear me not. No being can remain the same. Yes, I have changed. Yes, I am now Gandalf the White. But I am still Gandalf. You have changed during the weeks and months of traveling with the Fellowship, have you not? In fact, you now count an elf among your friends. But are you not still Gimli? Are you not still the son of Gloin? No being, no entity, can go through life without change."  
  
"Forgive me," Gimli murmured, having no energy for his usual bluster. The wizard placed his hand gently on the dwarf's shoulder, and Gimli continued, "It is only. . .he is a stranger to this world. It took us weeks to learn to trust each other, and yet, Legolas and Aragorn give their trust to him without thinking twice. And in spite of myself, I find myself doing the same thing. Must not he earn our trust?"  
  
"What makes you so sure, Gimli, that they automatically trust Ardeth? Yes, I do trust him. I have seen into his heart, his soul, his mind, his memories. Something that is forbidden to you, to Legolas, to Aragorn. What you see is not automatic trust. . .simply a willingness to trust him. It is not the same thing in the least. They are giving him the opportunity to win their trust," Gandalf replied.  
  
Gimli looked over at the Man and the Elf, now helping Ardeth to stand up, and said softly, "And he is winning it. Not with great deeds, for that is not the way to win their trust." Gandalf patted his shoulder. The dwarf sighed, "But that is not true, either. He protected Merry and Pippin, and that is no small deed."  
  
"But that is not how he is earning their trust, Gimli, you spoke truly a moment ago. He is earning their trust with his honest and his honor. There is courage in that, though it is a courage of a quiet sort. He is guided only by his instincts in this place, for there is nothing here in Middle Earth that he knows. Nothing known, nothing familiar. He is far more at our mercy than we are at his," Gandalf explained.  
  
Something he never quite considered and Gimli regarded the young man whom Aragorn was steadying as Legolas gently fastened a cloak about his shoulders. There was truth in what Gandalf said. He considered the words of the wizards, considered how he would react in Ardeth's place. It took courage indeed, to place your trust in the hands of people you just met. For all Ardeth knew, they could be knaves themselves, lulling him into a false security before killing him. . .or worse, using him as Saruman intended.  
  
They would not do such a thing, but Ardeth had no way of knowing that. He was operating on instincts and. . .and on faith. Gimli murmured, not entirely aware that he was speaking aloud, "The lad has more courage than I, Gandalf. This world is the only one I have ever known. Were I to end up in his world, as a pawn for a man as evil as Saruman. . .I do not believe I have his faith or his courage, Gandalf."  
  
"You never know what strength is in your blood, my friend, until it has been tested. Come. It is time that we were on our way," Gandalf observed. Legolas was helping Ardeth onto Aragorn's horse, while the Man first kicked dirt into their fire, smothering it, before destroying it entirely. Gimli didn't know what good that would do, but he could hardly fault Aragorn for his caution, with everything they went through during their journey.  
  
Once Aragorn swung up behind Ardeth, the latter showing signs of the pain he was obviously experiencing, Legolas mounted his horse, then reached down to help up Gimli. At the same time, Gandalf swung onto Shadowfax. He told the others, "We ride for Edoras, but our welcome will not be a warm one. Be on your guard. Ardeth, allow Aragorn to take more of your weight as we approach the city."  
  
The young man nodded, replying, "I shall. But until we are within sighting of the city, I will carry my own weight. No sense in making Aragorn's sword arm more tired than necessary." This brought an unexpected ripple of laughter. . .not so much in the words themselves, but the laughter was generated by Ardeth's rueful tone and equally rueful expression. Aragorn chuckled softly, his silver eyes reflecting his amusement.  
  
"I believe you have our roles backward, Ardeth. . .I am to protect my little brother, not the other way around!" the ranger said, still chuckling as he nudged his horse forward. Gimli glanced over at Ardeth to see the young man's expression change to surprised pleasure. How long was it since anyone called him 'little brother,' since his elder brother died perhaps? Perhaps that was why Ardeth came back in time, too. To remember what it was to be the little brother. Gimli waited for the resentment to bubble once more inside his soul. . .but it wasn't there. Feeling peace settle over him for the first time since they set eyes on Ardeth Bey, Gimli relaxed behind Legolas.  
  
"I don't believe the lad is so far from the truth, Aragorn," the dwarf called out, drawing his friend's attention, "after all, you've gotten yourself into a few pretty messes. Perhaps having this young man along to keep you out of trouble. It certainly cannot hurt!" Aragorn raised his eyebrows, in a now-familiar expression. Ignoring that expression, Gimli continued cheerfully, "You should have seen him at the battle of Amon Hen, lad. There were no Uruk-hai left for us to fight by the end!"  
  
Now Aragorn looked sheepish, and he replied, "I was somewhat angry, you see. Frodo was gone, with the One Ring, and I narrowly resisted its temptation. In order to keep my oath, it was necessary for me to break my oath. Boromir was dying. I was hardly thinking about leaving Uruk-hai for Legolas and Gimli to fight." The banter kept up as they traveled toward Edoras and the next stage of their battle against Sauron. 


	7. Confrontation in Rohan

First, a quick author's note regarding the contents of this chapter. In recent months, I've learned that archaeologists are saying now that Rameses II was not the pharaoh mentioned in the Exodus. That assumption was made because of certain stelae, but if you'll notice, the name of said pharaoh was never mentioned in Exodus.  
  
The reason I bring this up, is because both Imhotep and Rick make reference to Moses in the chapter. Given the way I write Rameses, I also wanted to provide an explanation for his behavior.  
  
Reviews:  
  
Mommints: (beams happily) Good. . .if you're utterly comfortably with the mixing of the two movies, then it means I've been doing my job properly as a storyteller. I must admit, however, that some of the antiquated language comes not just from watching the three LOTR movies, but reading the ancient Greek myths, especially the Iliad and the Odyssey over the last several weeks. I know, I was evil by making Ardeth laugh when he was hurt so badly, but Gandalf's sense of humor is hard to resist. I thank you for the compliment, especially since I've loved all of your stories.  
  
Terreis: No, Celia wouldn't go ballistic on Rick in this situation. Especially not when he was doing such a good job of blaming himself in the first place. No forgiveness required, since Celia DOES have something of a temper, and it is usually Rick who triggers that temper. Just not this time. While I don't know how Tolkien (or Peter Jackson) deals with Saruman, I have my own ideas of what Ardeth will do when confronted with the being responsible for his unexpected trip to ME.  
  
Kitrazzle Fayn: Why, thank you, dear! (smiles) I'm so glad you enjoyed the previous chapter. And Gimli was a favorite of mine in the movies. . .sort of a gruff, fiery, tough warrior with a soft heart he tried very hard to disguise. My next-door neighbor is a lot like Gimli in terms of attitude.  
  
Aria-hannah: Thanks, hon! Oh my, you found 'A Most Bizarre Ritual,' on Ruse's site? I've been trying to reformat that, to post it here, but the diskette is corrupted. I'm glad you enjoyed it though. . .it was a lot of fun to write, and I'm actually mulling over a sequel, in which Ardeth and Imhotep play a prank on Rick.  
  
Deana: Sorry it took longer than I was anticipating to post this. I kept forgetting some crucial dialogue for the confrontation in Theoden's Hall. I finally had to watch the scene two or three times, to make I was reasonably close. Hope you enjoy this next chapter.  
  
Sailor Elf: I love your reviews. They are so entertaining! I get the image of you bouncing up and down at your computer, and that always makes me smile.  
  
Okay, now on with the story!  
  
Part Six  
  
Ardeth slowly relaxed against Aragorn as they drew closer to Edoras. The ranger could feel it in the way their new companion slumped in the saddle, and knew how tired Ardeth was. But he also appreciated the chieftain's attempt to spare his strength as long as possible. As they approached the outskirts of the city, Gandalf once more repeated his warning about their reception in the city.  
  
To which Gimli replied, "You would find more cheer in a graveyard!" Looking at the tired, worn faces of the people who inhabited Edoras, Aragorn could hardly argue. Most could not, or would not, meet the eyes of the remaining Fellowship. However, Aragorn did notice more than a few stares in Ardeth's direction. Ardeth noticed as well and he stiffened slightly. But that was the only indication that he noticed.  
  
Aragorn at last looked away from the faces of the Edoras subjects, his eye caught by a motion. The pennant of the Horse-Lords torn from its rightful place, an omen if ever Aragorn saw one. At the same time, he noticed a young woman gazing down at them. He could not see her features clearly, but he could see that she had long blonde hair that whipped about her face. He looked away briefly. . .and when he looked back once more, she was gone.  
  
Her appearance and disappearance served to make Aragorn that much more uneasy about this city. Ardeth murmured, "Gimli speaks far too truly. My people have been described as grim, and sometimes harsh, for it is a harsh life that we even now live. But never have they been described as beaten. That is what I see in the faces of these people. How long has their king been under the sway of this Saruman?"  
  
"Too long," was all Gandalf would say. Disquieted by this observation, Aragorn urged his horse forward. Gandalf led them inside the stables, slipping down from Shadowfax and leading the horse into a stall. Knowing there would be no room for both he and Ardeth to dismount inside the stall, Aragorn dismounted first, then helped their ally down as well. Ardeth was a little shaky on his feet, but there was a grim determination burning in his dark eyes.  
  
It was that determination which allowed Aragorn to release his hold on the younger man as Legolas and Gimli dismounted. The dwarf's suspicion of their ally hadn't escaped Aragorn's notice. And he couldn't blame Gimli for trying to protect them. That was simply part of what and whom Gimli, son of Gloin, was. Thus, he was pleased, and more than a little proud, when the dwarf abandoned his usual bluster and simply stood quietly at Ardeth's side, allowing the chieftain to lean against him if it became necessary.  
  
"There are two parts to our ruse," Gandalf explained as he reached over to steady Ardeth. Aragorn and Legolas listened intently as they rubbed down the three horses. The wizard continued, "They will want us to turn over our weapons, and we shall. However, this is where the deception comes into play. I shall keep my staff, because it is, after all, a walking stick, and I am a very old man."  
  
There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he said this. Aragorn suppressed a smile and returned his attention to his work. But not before he exchanged a glance with Legolas, who looked just as amused as he felt. The wizard went on, "In addition, I will be leaning on Legolas, who is young and strong, as well as agile. Aragorn will be supporting Ardeth's weight. Ardeth, lad, you will need to give them that fearsome-looking sword. When I cast out Saruman from Theoden, it will be returned to you."  
  
"I fear I am incapable of using it properly at the moment," came Ardeth's weary answer. There was a tired humor in there, but Ardeth continued, "I will do everything I can to aid you, Gandalf. Even without my scimitar, and even wounded, I can still fight." Aragorn finished what he was doing and walked over to the intense young man. Intense, yes . . .that was a good word for this man who seemed far older than his years.  
  
Gandalf smiled and put his hand on the young man's shoulder, answering, "I know, lad. But there is a time to use that sword, a time to use your head, a time to use deception, and a time to use magic. The trick is learning when to use what weapon, and to what degree. Right now, the best weapon you have is your still-returning strength. Do not push your body to its limits yet, Ardeth Bey, there will be time enough for that later. Entirely too much time, I fear."  
  
"To everything there is a season, and a purpose under heaven," Ardeth answered as Aragorn returned to his side. The denizens of Middle Earth looked at him, Aragorn's own surprise reflecting on the faces of the others, and the chieftain explained, "In one of the Great Books of our time, a Great Book that was written over several centuries in the region where I was born and grew up, there is a book called 'Ecclesiastics.' My wife quotes from it sometimes when she wishes to prove a point." He paused, then added with a wry grin, "It is also part of a song that was popular around the time I was born."  
  
"Do you miss your wife less when you speak of her, Ardeth?" Legolas asked as the five moved slowly toward the castle. Aragorn's best friend continued, his curiosity reflected in his eyes, "I have never taken a wife and have little experience with such things. I am curious. Does it ease the pain of being parted from your time and your world to speak of her? I would think that it would hurt more, since she is not here with you."  
  
"But when I speak of her, Legolas, Celia *is* here. She is in my heart, she is at my side. On our wedding day, we exchanged gifts. Her gift to me was this cloak I now wear. So long as I keep it close to me, I am never truly without her. When I return home after being away, she adds some of her favorite scent to the fabric. Not a great deal. Not enough to draw the attention of my warriors. Just enough so that her scent is there even when she is not. I am never without her. . .never," Ardeth answered.  
  
Aragorn wanted to close his eyes, wanted to close his ears to shut out Ardeth's words, because they struck at the very heart of him. He carried Arwen with him, no matter where he was. She was always there. He clenched his jaw. By the Valar, he wished she was with him now! He wished he could see her face, hear her voice, feel her touch. He missed her.  
  
They had a job to do. He knew that. But Aragorn was only a man, and he struggled mightily with this task that was laid out before him. The One Ring no longer tempted him. But there were temptations in life, aside from power. The temptation to turn away, though you knew in your heart that you were doing the right thing. The temptation to turn away, because the path was growing dark and frightful, and you weren't sure if you had the strength to go on.  
  
As they began the walk up the steps leading to the castle, Ardeth Bey turned his head and looked straight at Aragorn. There was no judgment there, only compassion and wisdom. Ardeth knew what he was thinking. And he, Aragorn, who was supposed to be lending the wounded warrior his strength. . .was receiving some of Ardeth's own quiet strength. The self- exiled king bowed his head to his new ally in respect and thanks.  
  
There was no time for words, because as they reached the top step and came face to face with the guards, the ruse went into effect. Aragorn mentally prepared himself for what was to come, and bit back a smile as the reassuring squeeze of the forearm he received from Ardeth. Gandalf already beat Saruman twice. There was no reason he couldn't do it a third time.  
  
. . .  
  
As Gandalf predicted, the captain of the guards did indeed take their weapons. However, Legolas also noted the distaste on the man's face as he mentioned Grima Wormtongue's name. The elf could hardly blame him for that.  
  
Just the name was enough to make one grimace. And based on the exchange they had with the Rohirrim whilst searching for Merry and Pippin, it seemed that the man lived up to his name. It was he who, no doubt, gave Saruman access to Theoden King. The elf prince kept his thoughts to himself, as Gandalf told them upon reaching the city, and instead played his own role. The young and strong elf whose steady arm was necessary to the more frail Gandalf.  
  
Frail, hah! As Gandalf protested with an appealing expression, "Surely you would not deprive an old man of his walking stick," it was all Legolas could do to keep a straight face. Gandalf was several thousand years older than he was, but that made him in no way frail. Something the captain of the guard probably knew. . .but the man allowed him to keep his staff nonetheless. And fortunately for Legolas, he had almost three thousand years worth of experience to call upon to keep his face neutral.  
  
And instead, he focused on turning over his weapons. As Gandalf predicted, even Ardeth had to turn over his sword. Gimli turned over his axe amid much grumbling, while Aragorn turned over his own sword and knives, each motion deliberate, all the while staring into the eyes of the guards. Several of them looked ill at ease, and Legolas took heart. These, at least, would not stop them from doing what had to be done.  
  
With the weapons confiscated, the guards stepped to one side. From the corner of his eye, Legolas noticed Gandalf wink at Aragorn. Estel was suppressing a smile, and Legolas followed his friend's example. As they moved past the guards, Gandalf seemed to lean against Legolas, and there was no pretense in Ardeth's need for Aragorn's support as they were allowed inside the Hall.  
  
The interior made Legolas shudder. There was evil here, he could *feel* it. As an elf, he had more sensitive senses than most humans. And the source of the evil was. . . there. With the keen hearing of all elves, the prince of Mirkwood heard that evil man say in a very low voice, "My lord, Gandalf the Grey is coming." Almost as soon as the words were spoken, the doors closed behind them, and there was the very distinctive sound of those doors locking.  
  
Ignoring the crouched figure, obviously Grima Wormtongue, Gandalf said, his voice betraying naught but confidence and strength, "The courtesy of your Hall is somewhat lessened of late, Theoden King." From the corner of his eye, Legolas noticed a small group of men walking parallel to the five. A quick glance back to Aragorn told him that his friend noticed, as did Gimli and Ardeth. They would be trouble. Fortunately, the remaining members of the Fellowship were prepared for this eventuality.  
  
Just as they were prepared for Wormtongue to murmur to the king, "He is not welcome." Legolas grimaced. No wonder the people of this city, of this nation, were so bereft of hope. No wonder the Rohirrim told them that hope abandoned Rohan. Much made sense. And still, those men watched. Men loyal to Wormtongue, without a doubt. Mercenaries, perhaps, and therefore loyal to no one. There was that possibility as well. Legolas mentally counted the number of attackers. No more than four or five. It would be a simple matter for them to take Wormtongue's men, even if there was just three of them, instead of four.  
  
The king mumbled, obviously under Wormtongue's control, "Why should I welcome you, Gandalf Stormcrow?" A quick glance at his companions told Legolas that Ardeth was frowning, though he maintained his pose of being unable to fight. Good. That was very good. The men preparing now to attack would get a very nasty surprise when the seemingly-weak warrior fought back.  
  
For now, however, Legolas kept his eyes on the Istari and the king. Wormtongue answered in a fawning tone, "A just question, my liege." He rose to his feet, glaring at the entire party, and continued, "Late is the hour in which this conjurer chooses to appear; Lathespell I name you, ill news is an ill guest!" Conjurer? Legolas heard Gandalf called many things, some of which should not be repeated in mixed company, but that was a new term.  
  
And Gandalf was not of a mind to put up with Wormtongue, in any manner. He snapped, "Be silent! Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth! I did not pass through fire and death to bandy words with a witless worm!" For the first time, Saruman's spy noticed the staff in Gandalf's free hand.  
  
His eyes widened and he swung to face the captain of the guard, exclaiming, "His staff! I *told* you to take the wizard's staff!" It seemed that those words were a signal of some kind, for the men whom Legolas noticed chose to attack then. Gandalf released his grip on Legolas, allowing the young elf to slip away. Within moments, each of the five was engaged, including Ardeth. Gandalf continued his attempt to free Theoden.  
  
One by one, each of the five took out a man. Legolas was on his way to rejoin Gandalf when he heard footsteps behind him. Without even looking behind him, Legolas raised his arm from his side and hit his would-be attacker. He didn't look when he struck. Nor did he look when he heard the other man hit the ground. His attention was on the drama unfolding. Gimli had Wormtongue on the ground, his foot on the spy's chest, and the dwarf growled in a menacing voice, "I would stay still, if I were you!"  
  
A quick look told Legolas that both Aragorn and Ardeth were fine, though a fine film of sweat covered Ardeth's face. The two men joined the elf as Theoden began to laugh. Not Theoden. It was not Theoden. It was Saruman. At last, still wheezing, the wizard told them defiantly, "You have no power here, Gandalf the Grey!" There was more laughter, the kind to send chills down the spine of the bravest men.  
  
Legolas watched, feeling the muscles of his jaw tense. So this was the face of their enemy. No, not Theoden. . .but Saruman. This was the truth of the wise and compassionate Saruman. This coward. Legolas knew his eyes were narrowed, but he could not help himself. He hated any kind of parasite, and that was exactly what Saruman was now. A parasite who dealt out death and illness, heartbreak and grief.  
  
Legolas sensed the anger rising in Gandalf's body. . .right before his old friend threw off his cloak, revealing his white robes. Gandalf the Grey was now Gandalf the White. . .and that made him the equal of the parasitical wizard now hiding behind Theoden King.  
  
Something Saruman knew all too well, for he recoiled at the terrible, magnificent sight in front of him. Gandalf answered his old friend grimly, "I will draw you out, Saruman, as poison is drawn from a wound!" Ah. That was another good way of describing Saruman. Poison. And with those words, Gandalf extended his staff, throwing Saruman against the throne rightfully held by Theoden.  
  
Saruman, of course, wouldn't go quietly. He hissed, "If I go, Theoden dies!" But Gandalf was just as determined to cast out Saruman as Saruman was determined to remain. Legolas wondered if Theoden was at all aware of what was going on. . .of the battle now being waged for his mind, his body, and his soul. He also wondered if Theoden would want to live like this, or if his death might be a mercy in this case.  
  
However, such a possibility wasn't even an option for Gandalf, who answered evenly as he once more extended his staff forward, "You did not kill me. . .you will not kill him." There was a disturbance behind him, and Legolas glanced over to see Aragorn restraining a young, blonde-haired woman. Ardeth was paler, and the elf noticed with some concern that the newcomer's jaw was clenched, as if fighting back pain.  
  
Legolas wanted to draw someone's attention to the chieftain's plight, but he knew what was at stake right now. He also did not want to place Ardeth in danger unnecessarily by drawing attention to his less than healthy state. So he kept silent. Saruman once more tried to maintain his claim on Theoden and his land by declaring defiantly, "Rohan is mine!" Unfortunately, it seemed the ancient wizard was just as stubborn as Estel. . .and that was saying a great deal.  
  
However stubborn Saruman was, however, Gandalf was just as stubborn. Or simply unwilling to tolerate any more from Saruman, for he demanded, "Begone!" At the same time, he extended his staff one last time, again catapulting Saruman back against the throne. With a strange sound, Theoden toppled forward. Saruman was successfully cast out. One battle was won. There were more ahead.  
  
. . .  
  
In some ways, the casting out of Saruman reminded Ardeth Bey of stories he heard from his wife about possessions. . .and exorcisms. That was what he was seeing now. The Middle Earth version of an exorcist. As the king slumped forward in his throne, the young woman whom Aragorn was holding back rushed forward and caught him before he could fall to the floor. Before Ardeth's disbelieving eyes, the man who seemed to be a hundred years old only moments earlier. . .was losing years. By the time the transformation was complete, he seemed perhaps ten years older than Aragorn, in his late forties or early fifties.  
  
In his mind's eye, Ardeth could visualize Saruman being knocked out of the king's body and back several feet. He didn't know if it was his imagination or if someone was being kind enough to show him the truth, but he did know that the image pleased him. The king looked at the young woman wonderingly, drawing the attention of the chieftain once more, "I know your face. Eowyn. . .Eowyn!"  
  
The second time was said with far more confidence and even more tenderness. The young woman, who was evidently the king's niece, wept for joy as her uncle held her tenderly. He was far more than an uncle to her, then. He treated her almost like a daughter. . .in fact, in some ways, Theoden and Eowyn reminded Ardeth of Garai and Celia. The king then looked at the wizard who just freed him and questioned, as if not really believing what he saw, "Gandalf?"  
  
Gandalf was smiling, looking both pleased and satisfied, and said, "Breathe the free air, my friend." Tension was slowly easing from the Hall. For the first time, Ardeth realized that the Captain of the Guard held back one of his own men. When that happened, he didn't know. Probably while he was fighting with one of the men loyal to Grima Wormtongue (and what kind of name was that?).  
  
The king did as Gandalf suggested, adding in an almost-whisper, "Dark have been my dreams of late." His eyes swept over the company, frowning in a now-familiar manner when his gaze reached Ardeth. However, he said nothing further, particularly when he saw Aragorn step closer to Ardeth in an almost protective manner. Aragorn, the Med-jai learned during their journey, who was used to being the little brother to Elrohir and Elladan.  
  
And Gandalf gave the king no time to question Ardeth's presence, for he said as the captain of the guards stepped forward, "Your fingers would remember their strength if they held your sword once more." From Ardeth's position, he could tell the wizard was smiling. He smiled and bantered more easily than any other wizard Ardeth ever knew. Then again, the only wizard or magick-user whom Ardeth truly knew was Imhotep. Not a fair comparison at all.  
  
The king withdrew his sword at Gandalf's suggestion, his eyes lighting up with wonderment as he held the blade to the light. The wonderment turned to fury as he beheld Grima Wormtongue, who was still being guarded by Gimli. The spy drew back in fear, trembling visibly. Theoden ground out, "Seize him!" No one asked whom he meant. There was a grim satisfaction on the captain's face as he and another man stalked down to where Gimli maintained his guard.  
  
The dwarf stepped to one side, making a sweeping gesture with his arm toward the quivering turncoat. His expression said quite clearly, 'He's all yours!' Ardeth told the voice of Rick O'Connell in his head to be silent. This was no time for the other man to be cracking jokes. The voice answered that he would not be silent, that he was the voice of Ardeth's own subconscious. Ardeth ignored that and focused on what was happening. The captain of the guard grimly inclined his head to Gimli. He took one side, his second took the other and the king added, "My Hall has been soiled long enough by that worm!" Now the grim smiles took on an almost evil expression as the two soldiers dragged the weeping turncoat out of the Hall.  
  
Ardeth, Aragorn, Gandalf, Gimli, Legolas and the king all followed. From his position behind the others, he could see little, but Ardeth heard Wormtongue begging the king not to send him away. He also heard the king bellowing in fury. Something about Wormtongue having him on all fours like a beast before Saruman. There were other ways of putting it, however. What Wormtongue did to Theoden was a violation.  
  
Ardeth leaned against the wall, the adrenaline slowly leaving his body. And it left exhaustion and pain in its place. He tried to focus on the ongoing confrontation between Theoden and Wormtongue, but blackness threatened the edges of his vision. He started to sway, but a strong arm about his waist stabilized him. Ardeth opened his eyes to find Legolas standing at his side, a worried expression on his face.  
  
Ardeth tried to smile, but he needed that energy to buy himself a few more precious seconds of being able to stand. A bright light caught his attention, and Ardeth looked back in time to see Theoden raise his sword high over his head. Then Aragorn cried out, "No, my lord! Enough blood has been shed on his behalf." The bright light faded, and Ardeth presumed that the sword was being lowered, for there was no scream of pain or horror cut off suddenly.  
  
Ardeth murmured, "I am not so certain that was such a wise thing for Aragorn to do. Sparing that one's life may come back to haunt us all." Legolas said nothing in answer, just kept an arm around Ardeth's waist. There was a cry of rage, and bodies parted for Ardeth to see Grima Wormtongue running out of the city. Running back to his master. Ardeth felt a chill. Yes. This could be very bad. He wished he could communicate that to Aragorn, but it was becoming more and more of a struggle to remain conscious and keep his feet.  
  
There was a long silence, then Theoden asking in puzzlement, and fear, "Where is my son?" Ardeth raised his eyes to look at Legolas, who sighed and lowered his eyes. That was all the answer Ardeth needed. But the expression on the lovely young girl's face verified it. He wasn't the only one who noticed her expression. Theoden looked at her, asking gently, "Eowyn? Dearest niece. . .where is he? Where is my son?"  
  
"Dead, my lord," Eowyn choked out, "he died of injuries suffered in an orc attack just this morning, after lingering for some days." Theoden's face was ashen, but he stepped forward and took his niece into his arms. Ardeth felt for the girl. She was obviously close to her cousin. He tried to imagine comforting Celia if she was to ever lose either of her brothers, and shuddered. Losing Galen or Jason would devastate his wife. Just as much as losing Anatol, Acacia, or Aleta would devastate him. It was too painful to imagine.  
  
"Perhaps Gandalf could accompany Theoden King to his son's grave. . .I believe Ardeth needs to rest," Legolas suggested diplomatically. All eyes turned toward the young elf, including the king's. The elven prince inclined his head to Theoden, saying, "Forgive me for failing to introduce myself. I am Legolas Greenleaf, of Mirkwood. You know Gandalf. The Man is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and the dwarf is Gimli, son of Gloin. Our friend is Ardeth Bey, from a distant place. He has been a valuable ally." Gimli, who tried so hard to keep his suspicion from Ardeth, nodded vehemently.  
  
Gandalf, standing behind Theoden, winked at Legolas in a conspiratorial manner, indicating he was quite pleased with Legolas. Theoden approached the two, looking at them almost critically. However, when he spoke, it was to Ardeth. He said quietly, "You have the look of the Easterlings about you, Ardeth Bey. How did you come to be traveling with my old friend, and why do they regard you as an ally?"  
  
"He was drawn here from his own place by Saruman's sorcery. That is how he came to be here. As for the why. . .he was almost fatally injured while protecting two small Halflings. And, he fought alongside Legolas, Aragorn, and Gimli against those loyal to Wormtongue while I freed you," Gandalf answered. There was no real reproach in his voice, and that made his words all the more painful. The king looked away.  
  
"He looks on the verge of swooning! Bring him inside, and I will see to him," Eowyn exclaimed. Her voice sounded as if it came from a great distance, and Ardeth felt his legs give way. But even as he lapsed into darkness, Legolas was there to catch him, and gently lowered him to the ground. Then the world went mercifully black, and there was no more pain for a time.  
  
. . .  
  
As Aragorn hurried to help Legolas carry Ardeth back inside the Hall, an entirely different set of people were on a journey of their own. It was early morning, the best time to be traveling in late summer Egypt. Not that this particularly pleased Rick O'Connell. True, it got them out of the worst of the heat, but he had no wish to travel anywhere with Imhotep. He didn't trust the guy. . .and he never would.  
  
On the other hand, as a Med-jai, Rick was bound to obey the requests of the Med-jai queen. And it wasn't the first time he worked with Imhotep for Ardeth's sake. He still didn't trust him, though. And curiously, he realized that Imhotep didn't trust him, either. Oh, well. Everyone had their little problems today, now didn't they? Right now, Rick's main concern was finding his best friend and seeing if they could bring him home.  
  
A little ahead of them, Evy rode, a broad, floppy hat protecting her from the rising heat of the desert. And as incongruous as it looked, Anck seemed to be riding behind her. That made no sense. She could have simply appeared at their destination. She was a ghost, after all. She had no corporeal body, as Rick sometimes forgot. But instead, she was here, riding with them. Why she did that, Rick had no idea. He had no idea why she did anything. However, he couldn't deny. . .at least not any longer. . .that she almost always had Ardeth or Celia's best interests at heart. Or maybe even always.  
  
That didn't mean he forgave her for what she did to his family. She put them all through hell. And all right, maybe it was Meela who stabbed Evy at Ahm Shere. Imhotep, Celia, and Ardeth certainly thought so, and while Rick didn't trust the guy, he also knew that Imhotep had reason to be suspicious of her. She left him to die. Left him to the Underworld. But he seemed convinced that Meela was the guilty party.  
  
Evy seemed to agree, for her head turned slightly every few minutes, reacting to something Anck said. Rick couldn't hear what she said, but he could see her lips moving. And ever so often, he could even see her smile. What a strange idea. Evy and Anck, actually agreeing on something, and even laughing together. Something that could have never happened during the first time with the magic circle.  
  
Anck was now looking at Evy *as* Evy, instead of as Nefertiri. The ghost freely admitted that she resented Nefertiri. Some of that was due to Nefertiri shutting out both Anck and Ardath, even before Anck began her affair with Imhotep. Now, Anck understood that Nefertiri sensed Ardath didn't have long to live, and she feared letting down her guard. She feared growing to care for Ardath, only to watch her die.  
  
The caves came into view, and Rick's heart rate picked up. Here was where it happened. Here was where he betrayed his best friend. There was a part of him which half-expected Lady Ardath to show up and demand to know why he didn't fight harder, why he didn't protect her child. Imhotep said, as if hearing his thoughts, "If Lady Ardath has not shown herself, then she agrees with the little queen that you were not at fault."  
  
Rick looked over at the other man, who added, "I made the mistake of underestimating Lady Ardath, and I misjudged her terribly. But this always I knew. She protected what was hers. Whether it was Rameses or Anck-su- namun, it never mattered. She was a protector at heart. It should not have surprised me, that Ardeth Bey was her descendent. They are very much alike."  
  
That startled Rick, who never thought about similarities between his friend and Lady Ardath. The high priest went on, "With the veils removed from my eyes, O'Connell, I can see many things. Ardeth is the reincarnation of Rameses, tiyu, but he is also the many-times grandson of Lady Ardath. Something I will never again allow myself to forget. Just like his namesake, Ardeth protects what is his. And he has a much broader focus of what 'his' entails."  
  
Rick said nothing at first, as he didn't know what to say. He still didn't like Imhotep, he still didn't trust him. But at the same time, he couldn't argue with the high priest. Imhotep was right, and it was annoying the hell out of Rick. He said finally, "I guess, I get so used to thinking of Celia as Lady Ardath's reincarnation, I forget that the Lady was also Ardeth's actual ancestor."  
  
"Do you remember, O'Connell? Do you have a memory of Terumun? In the years before the Med-jai were exiled? Before Seti's death? The clash between Rameses and Moses?" Imhotep asked. Rick blinked. Actually, he did remember, though he didn't realize the confrontation was between Rameses and Moses. Imhotep continued, "He was always something of a hothead, Moses was. Rameses was even worse, of course."  
  
That, Rick remembered rather well. There was a rivalry between Rameses and Moses that turned dark after Ardath's murder. Many things about the young prince turned dark, without the loving influence of his concubine. Imhotep continued, "Rameses and Seti were prepared to let the Hebrew slaves go. Rameses never forgot, you see, that his Ardath was raised by the Hebrews. He never forgave their god, for allowing her to die. But that was separate."  
  
"And then," Rick murmured almost numbly, "Moses lost his temper. He insulted Ardath's memory, and told Rameses that her death was advance punishment of Rameses' wickedness. It was punishment for her, too, for loving Rameses. That was when Rameses swore the Israelites would never leave." He remembered. He remembered having to hold Rameses back, or the prince would have cut Moses down where he stood.  
  
Imhotep was holding onto him on the other side. But neither of them thought to restrain Anck-su-namun. Pharaoh's favorite mistress flew into a rage and attacked Moses. Seti was the only one with the presence of mind to pull her back. Rick said then, "It was the only time Seti ever admitted openly that he loved Ardath. He told Moses that he did a very foolish thing by insulting his beloved daughter. That insulting Ardath was as bad as insulting Nefertiri."  
  
Imhotep was silent, then said softly, "Strange. I forgot that. Or perhaps, more appropriately, I never allowed myself to remember. But he did say that." There was another long silence, then Imhotep went on, "I wonder how many other things about Seti I have forced myself to forget. Time does strange things to a memory. Do you know, O'Connell, how the Med- jai protected little Ardeth from the curse of the first-born?"  
  
"I do," Rick said with a faint smile, "some of the slaves came and told them how to protect the boy. Some of the Hebrews whom Ardath protected and helped while she was alive. Secondly, Shakir and Paziyah put temporary warding tattoos on his face. These same Israelites went to Rameses' bedchamber that night and painted the protective sigil in lamb's blood."  
  
He offered Imhotep a sardonic smile, adding, "Seems they felt they would be betraying Ardath's memory if they allowed the man she loved die. They were caught between Moses and Rameses, and their desire to remain true to one of their own." Imhotep shook his head, and Rick asked softly, "Why do you think Ardeth was taken?"  
  
"I do not know," Imhotep admitted honestly, "but I can tell you why I would take him. He is a brave and determined warrior. He is a proud and honorable man. You described the man who took him as evil. Someone to surpass me, even at my worst. Thinking as I did, under the influence of the hom-dai. . .I would take him, for the pleasure of turning an honorable, good man into something dark and twisted."  
  
"But you didn't. You could have tried to turn Alex, could have made him into something ugly. The way he tells it, there were times you. . .protected him. Especially from Lock-nah," Rick observed. He didn't like admitting it. It went against the grain. . . almost as badly as it went against the grain to join forces with Imhotep the first time around. And every time since then. But Rick O'Connell was nothing if not honest.  
  
"He was a child. A child who did nothing to me, save putting on the Bracelet of Anpu. What honor is there is harming an innocent child? Because he was Nefertiri's son? I did not realize that at the time. And even if I did. . .he was not even born at the time of Seti's death. As for Lock-nah? Lock-nah was a coward. A swaggering bully who swore allegiance to me, without understanding what I desired," Imhotep answered.  
  
It was a strange conversation to being having, but Rick came to expect such strange things, especially while he was in Egypt. The American asked softly, "And what did you desire? My death? My wife's death? World domination? World destruction? What did you want, Imhotep?" It was the first time he ever asked such a question. The first time he ever looked at his odd companion as a human being. . .as a man.  
  
"Niy. I wanted none of those things. I only wanted them, because I believed that was the only way I could love Anck-su-namun in peace. I never realized how right I was when I told Meela that she was only Anck-su- namun's reincarnation in body. Meela looked like my princess, but she was incapable of loving. And Anck-su-namun? Her greatest sins came about because of her fierce love," Imhotep replied.  
  
There was a quiet sigh from the other man, then he explained, "I never realized, until my final rising, O'Connell. You only stood against me, because I threatened what was yours. Had I left Evelyn and Alexander alone, you would have never fought me. And the past. . .something the little queen once told me repeats in my head. Long did I hate Nefertiri for calling out to the Med-jai. But. . .what else would she do? We were killing her father. . .betraying her father."  
  
What might have been. Even after two years, those scenarios shown to him by Lady Ardath could give Rick nightmares. What if? Finally, the American said softly, "Things happened for a reason. That's what you're telling me. You think there's a reason Ardeth was taken by that slimebag. You think there's a specific reason why he was allowed to take him. There's something he supposed to do."  
  
Imhotep nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving the American. Great. Rick was afraid he would say something like that. As Anck slipped to the ground (appeared there?), and Evy swung down from her horse, the American sighed, "Just as long as the crazy Med-jai doesn't get himself killed in the meantime." Imhotep merely raised an eyebrow at him, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and Rick all but growled, "Not a word out of you, or I'll kick your immortal ass clear to San Francisco."  
  
"As I told your son, when he said more or less the same thing. . .I do not think so!" came the answer. Rick rolled his eyes and followed the immortal into the caves. Because, of course, the women were already inside. Of course. They couldn't wait!  
  
. . .  
  
The first thing Evelyn O'Connell noticed as they reached the caves. . .the entrance once more looked the way it did when they first saw it. Anck- su-namun whispered in ancient Egyptian, "What is it?" Knowing that her former rival could read her mind, could hear her thoughts, Evy projected an image as the cavern entrance as she saw it. . .but the first time, and the second. Anck inhaled sharply (though how she did that without lungs, Evy still didn't know), and murmured, "I understand."  
  
"I'm glad one of us does," Evy answered in English with a sigh, dismounting. Anck appeared at her side, and the pair ventured into the caves. Everything was exactly as Evy and Rick left it the previous day, when they returned to tell Celia what happened. Anck gave her a tentative smile as Evy lit a torch. The Englishwoman said softly, "I thank you for coming with me, Anck-su-namun. I know you would have preferred to remain with Celia."  
  
"Sennefer. . .I mean, Garai. . .and Altair will take care of her while we are here," came the unexpected reply, "and I know I am where she wishes me to be. If I can do anything to help bring Ardeth home, I will do it." The pair continued along in silence until they reached the chamber where Ardeth was taken. The structures were still there, and Evy took a deep breath. She could still see it in her mind. . .all of it. Anck shuddered, though she was merely a spirit, and whispered, "I can feel the evil in this place. It is cold. Just as Meela was."  
  
It was a strange comment to make, and Evy looked at her companion. Anck looked back, and for a moment, Evy knew that the princess was seeing Nefertiri, her rival. Then her eyes cleared, and Evy knew that Anck was seeing Evelyn O'Connell. The ghost said softly, "It was so strange. . .two souls in one body, though I hesitate to say Meela even had a soul. She was so cold, Evelyn. So very cold. She enjoyed causing pain. Just like Lock- nah."  
  
Evy didn't speak, sensing that this was something Anck needed to say. In the last two years, there were few times when they actually spoke without Celia there to keep the peace. Just in case. The princess continued, "It took me a long time to separate myself from Meela, even after we both perished. Celia has told me often that it was Meela who killed you, but it was hard to separate my resentment of Nefertiri from Meela's hatred."  
  
"You resented her, I don't believe you hated her," Evy interposed. Anck gave her a weary smile, and Evy continued, "I never really thought about what it must have been like for you, Meela and Anck in one body. It was different for me. Nefertiri came back with me, because she knew I would need her. But I was in control. In some ways, your resurrection into Meela was something like a violation."  
  
Anck stared at her in shock, then lowered her eyes. She said softly, "I did not think anyone else would understand. Or that anyone would even think about that. The. . .I did not wish to think so. After everything Imhotep did for me, to bring me back to life. But you are right. Nefertiri joined with you willingly, to protect you. She might not understand you, but you are part of her, and she would not allow you to face me alone."  
  
"And Ardath never truly went away. She was always there, with the others, in the back of Celia's mind, just waiting for the right time to ask her permission. She could not go, not until Rameses was ready to go with her. In a way, she was just as much a ghost as you are," Evy said thoughtfully as she knelt in front of the structures which served as a portal to drag her brother away from them.  
  
"Tiyu," Anck admitted, "but she also stayed, once she was awakened, to protect Celia. Just as Nefertiri was there to protect you." There was a brief silence, then Anck continued, "At Ahm Shere, control of our body kept passing back and forth between us. You must believe me, Evelyn. I *never* wished to kill you. Not you. Not Nefertiri. Not at Ahm Shere, and not at Hamunaptra. It was. . .you blinded me, you see? The light that was your soul and your life. . .it blinded me, and it hurt!"  
  
There was raw pain in the concubine's voice now. Evy thought about Hamunaptra and trying to fight off Anck-su-namun's animated mummy. And she thought she understood. Anck continued, "Ardath was always the strong one. I lashed out and she soothed. I could only find comfort from her and Imhotep. As Pharaoh's daughter, you never knew about the cruelty among the concubines, the constant plots for power. I wanted no such power, only love. And I never dreamed that Seti was just a lonely old man who also needed to be loved."  
  
Anck took a deep breath, then released it. She looked at Evelyn straight on, saying softly, "He was a soldier first, you see. The son of a soldier, and in our time, there was seldom room for compassion in soldiers, save to their own wives and children. He treated Nefertiri with such tenderness. Perhaps that was why I resented her so. Had he treated me with even a little of the tenderness he showed her. . ."  
  
"But he thought you didn't need it. You never showed him that you were just as vulnerable as Nefertiri or Ardath. His daughters. You remember when Moses insulted her memory? Nefertiri was there, too, Anck-su- namun. Do you remember how Seti had to hold you back, and how you wept afterward?" Evy asked softly. Anck lowered her eyes once more, but Evy had to continue, "He held you, Anck, and caressed your hair. He held you with such tenderness, it made Nefertiri's throat ache to see."  
  
"I remember. Evelyn . . .I am trying to say . . .I did not wield the dagger that ended your life, however briefly. But I am sorry for it. I suppose I am saying this now, because I fear I cannot do anything to help Ardeth, not alone. I will need your help, and I wish everything to be said. So that we may concentrate on Ardeth, and no unfinished business between us," Anck-su-namun said earnestly.  
  
Evelyn looked at the spirit kneeling beside her. She was different from the Anck-su-namun she knew as Nefertiri. Partly because while she had Nefertiri's memories, she was Evelyn. And partly because death freed Anck. Anck, she saw now, was never truly evil. Just a loving friend and sister who lost her way. Just as Nefertiri's own brother lost his way. Evelyn placed her hand where Anck's shoulder would have been, were she alive, and said softly, in ancient Egyptian, "You are forgiven."  
  
They might never be friends. But for two years, they were allies and shared common ground in many ways. They would both do anything for the people they loved most in the world. Evy was told that Anck swore she would not be reborn until Celia and Ardeth was. With that in mind, the reincarnated princess told her former rival in the ancient tongue, "Perhaps in our next life, we will be friends." A smile lit the face of her companion.  
  
"But for now," Anck replied in the same language, "let us see what we can do to free our brother." Evy nodded, smiling at this reference to Ardeth. As Rick and Imhotep joined them, the Englishwoman could only shake her head. He truly was an amazing man, her brother reborn. Only he could draw two sets of mortal enemies together as a team. As members of the royal family and their high priest, Nefertiri, Rameses, Anck-su-namun and Imhotep learned spells. But it was Ardeth who performed the greatest magic. Not with spells, not with incantations. . .but with love.  
  
. . .  
  
For the first time in more than three thousand years, Imhotep, high priest of Osiris, was actually nervous. This was. . .beyond anything he attempted before, and all through the ride he was racking his braincase for spells that would help to open the portal. And to top it all off, he was riding with his enemy, Rick O'Connell. Terumun was only his enemy at the end, but not even remembering that could make him like the annoying, brash American.  
  
On the other hand, no matter how much he hated O'Connell, and O'Connell hated him, Imhotep knew that neither of them would do anything to further jeopardize Ardeth's life or their mission. Firstly, because neither could forgive themselves if anything happened to Ardeth because of their rivalry, arrogance, or stupidity. Secondly, they both knew that if they let their dislike of each other get in the way, Celia would kick their respective posteriors, and her two best friends would help her do it.  
  
Celia. The little queen never failed to amaze him. 'Have done,' she told him in the Council Hall, using phraseology not heard for centuries. It was Celia's voice and accent, but he didn't doubt that Lady Ardath remained within her. He misjudged the young concubine, misjudged her terribly, and it was a mistake he didn't intend to repeat with her reincarnation. Celia was small, and appeared fragile.  
  
Vulnerable, she was. Fragile, she was not. And only a fool would mistake her for weak. Many a time, especially after her beloved forever friend was murdered, Anck-su-namun told him that Ardath was always the strong one. She drew her strength from her forever friend, but Imhotep never understood. He was young and foolish, and mistook brute force for true strength.  
  
Looking back now, he realized that Lady Ardath's accusation inside Hamunaptra, that he failed Rameses, failed to keep his promise to look after Rameses, was painfully accurate. He betrayed his friend, betrayed his promise, betrayed every vow he ever uttered. And yet, it was because of that failure that she broke the hom-dai. So long as that cycle was repeated, Imhotep could never atone for what he did.  
  
It was that understanding, too, which allowed him to have compassion for the Med-jai of today. They truly were just as much victims of the hom- dai as Imhotep himself. Now the only hatred that remained in his heart, were for the Med-jai of his own time, the ones who condemned him in the first place. Hamadi Bey, and Khaldun. Imhotep bore no hatred for the entire Bey family. They, in fact, were the only ones whom he trusted in this new time.  
  
No, he hated only Hamadi Bey. Unfortunately, it was becoming harder for Imhotep as well. Did not Imhotep lash out when he was hurting and angry and guilt-ridden, just as Hamadi Bey did? Would not Imhotep have the exact same thing, were the positions reversed? If someone under his protection was killed, and one of the murderers was intent on resurrecting the others. . .would he not have been equally ruthless?  
  
It was a struggle for Imhotep to balance his remaining hatred of the long-ago Med-jai captain with the compassion he was re-discovering. Before the casting of the hom-dai, Hamadi Bey was an honorable man, albeit a hidebound one. A man who kept too many secrets and knew far too much, but an honorable man nonetheless. He and Imhotep didn't like each other, but they respected each other.  
  
Perhaps that was what hurt so much. Not just the physical pain and torment of the casting of the hom-dai, but the knowledge that it was a man whom he respected who was casting the curse. Imhotep wondered if Hamadi Bey, or any of his reincarnations, ever felt any remorse for that long-ago injustice. He wondered if the Med-jai captain regretted the decision he made before being disemboweled.  
  
And Khaldun. Imhotep's heart hardened at the thought of his long- dead nemesis. There would never be forgiveness in him, not for that one. Not after everything he did. He was the one most responsible for the casting of the hom-dai, he who used the Med-jai to achieve his evil ends. Imhotep didn't pretend to be an innocent, when it came to using people. But he protected Alex O'Connell while the child traveled with him, he protected the boy from Lock-nah. And what Khaldun did to the Med-jai was a violation.  
  
Then again, Khaldun was good at violating people. He did it to the Med-jai of their time, he did it to Ardeth, and he did it to O'Connell. In that time, Imhotep saw good even in people he disliked. He saw no good in Khaldun. He was responsible not only for Ardath's murder, but for her miscarriage in the fifth month of her pregnancy. Tiyu, Imhotep did not like her or respect her in those days. But he would wish such grief on no woman, least of all the woman his best friend loved. He never forgot what losing that child did to Rameses, nor did he forget what losing Ardath did to the prince. And that was what brought him here today, to this place and this time. He still owed this line a great deal. Some payment was rendered. . .but not enough.  
  
"It was here, where it happened," Evelyn O'Connell said. Imhotep looked at the structures she indicated, and barely suppressed a shudder. They spoke the truth then. He could feel the evil emanating from the 'towers,' as they were called. Evelyn continued, her voice trembling, "Look there. You can see where he was dragged. You can see. . ." She stopped, her voice failing her.  
  
Imhotep did look. . .and he could see, too, where Ardeth was dragged across the sandy floor of the caverns. The marks left by his fingers as he fought his abductor, the outline of his body, the outline of the American's body as he fought to keep Ardeth here, where he belonged. Imhotep could see it all, and his jaw tightened. The hom-dai was removed, but many of the powers remained, along with his immortality.  
  
A sound drew his attention away from the tracks, and he looked at the source of the sound. Anck-su-namun. She was staring at those same tracks, and tears were coursing down her cheeks. She was crying. Anck-su-namun was crying. Imhotep stared at her, feeling nigh to fainting with that revelation. What did she see that he did not? What did she see that he *could* not? He was the Keeper of the Dead. . .and she remained in the world of the living.  
  
"I can see him, Evelyn. I can see him. He fell into a place of strange creatures. . . with lush green grass and towering trees," she whispered. She wiped absently at her tears, as if she was only vaguely aware of them. Evelyn stepped closer, almost protective in her stance. Evelyn. Reincarnation of Nefertiri. Behaving in a protective manner toward Anck-su-namun. Either the world was going mad or Imhotep was.  
  
"What else do you see, Anck-su-namun?" Evelyn asked softly, switching between English and ancient Egyptian without really thinking about it. O'Connell was also staring at Anck-su-namun. He looked as lost as Imhotep felt, and in that moment, the high priest realized that was probably why Celia sent them both. Give them common ground. Damn her. Damn her for being so determined. Damn Ardeth for being taken and putting him in this position.  
  
He would have damned Anck-su-namun, Evelyn and Richard O'Connell as well, and anyone else who crossed his mind, but Anck-su-namun was answering Evelyn's question. In a trembling voice, she answered, "He is hurt, so badly. Broken ribs. . .a stab wound from one of the monsters. But still he fights. . .he cannot turn aside while those who are small and helpless are in danger. He fights. . .and draws the wrath of he who took him from us. He fights, and wins four allies, friends to the small ones he protected."  
  
Imhotep felt an icy finger tracing his spine. How did she know this? How could she possibly know this? As soon as the question was thought, the answer provided itself. Anck-su-namun was dead. . .yet she did not reside in the Afterlife, or in the Underworld. Her vision was not limited to their world. Combined with the few spells and incantations she learned as the mistress, then later the chosen bride of Seti. . .now he began to understand the kind of vision she possessed. At the same time, Evelyn began chanting, and Imhotep did not recognize the language. It was not ancient Egyptian. It was not Arabic. Nor was it English.  
  
That icy finger returned as he realized that Evelyn was calling upon the memories of another lifetime. Cold spread through his body, when O'Connell began to chant with her. But that was nothing compared to the terror he felt when there was an image. Between the two 'towers.' The image first showed a man. . .an ancient man, with long white hair and a white beard that was almost as long. The man whom the O'Connells saw. The source of the evil.  
  
A familiar sensation battled the ice, and warmed Imhotep. He embraced it, for the familiar burn of hatred was almost comforting. Between the two women, Imhotep's world was once more turned upside down. He never guessed that Anck-su-namun could see as far as she did. Nor did it ever occur to him that Evelyn lived other lifetimes, aside from Princess Nefertiri.  
  
The picture changed, now showing Ardeth battling misshapen figures that resembled men, and yet were not. Imhotep watched in horror as one such figure drove his knife into Ardeth's unprotected abdomen. A rough moan of protest and anger was drawn from O'Connell, but Imhotep barely paid attention. For though he was badly wounded, still, the Med-jai chieftain fought. . .just as Anck-su-namun said.  
  
Now Ardeth was no longer alone, but accompanied by four others. A man, who bore a strange resemblance to the Med-jai chieftain, held Ardeth in front of him on a horse. Ardeth was half-conscious, and the dark-haired stranger carried Ardeth's weight willingly. There was another very old man, with a white beard almost as long as his hair, but Imhotep felt no evil from this man. Only a determination to stop the evil one.  
  
A young blond-haired man, appearing to be the age of Celia's younger brother Jason, rode with a second, much smaller figure. A second look told Imhotep that it was a dwarf. No evil came from either of these figures, either. Imhotep realized that the young blond man was much older than he appeared. . .and that the dwarf was a fierce fighter. Then the picture winked out and Anck-su-namun exhaled slowly.  
  
"Well. . ." O'Connell said into the silence that followed, his arm shooting out to steady his swaying wife, "it wasn't a total failure. We did see into this other world. We know who took Ardeth, and we know that he has people looking after him." O'Connell started to say more, but fell silent. Instead, he occupied himself by fussing over his wife.  
  
"We learned one other thing, O'Connell," Imhotep stated with grim pleasure. The other three in the cave looked at him, and the high priest continued, "We know the name of our enemy. The one who took Ardeth from his home is called 'Saruman.' We know the name of the enemy, and we know his purpose in taking Ardeth. We cannot rescue him. . .but we know more than when we arrived here. It has not been a failure at all."  
  
Privately, Imhotep marked that name. Saruman. He who made Imhotep look like a Sunday school teacher, to borrow Jonathan's phrase. When Ardeth was safely home, Imhotep would make sure Saruman was as reviled as Khaldun. . .as reviled as Imhotep before the hom-dai was broken. Though he was remembering compassion, Imhotep still could be ruthless. Saruman harmed someone for whom Imhotep cared. For him, there would be no compassion. 


	8. Difficult Choices

Yea!!!!! It didn't take me as long to update this time. Wish me luck, I'm mailing several more applications this week.  
  
Reviewers:  
  
BalrogsBreath: Welcome! And thank you for saying so. I actually wasn't planning to weave Egypt and Middle Earth together, but the characters insisted. I have to say that, as usual, they're absolutely right. (I know, it's actually my subconscious, but it's fun to see people's reactions when I tell them that both the canon characters and my own characters talk to me).  
  
Belphegor: (double-checks spelling. . .okay, that's right): Welcome to you as well! No, I'm not mad. Just happy that you finally felt comfortable enough to leave a review. Thank you for correcting me on 'Lathspell' (my keyboard doesn't have a way for me to put accents in their proper place). I appreciate that. As for what happens next. . .well, just keep reading! (grins impishly)  
  
Terreis: (laughing) Yeah, I enjoyed writing that part. And it's something Rick insisted upon. After what I did to him in 'What Might Have Been' (no, he still hasn't forgiven me for that), I agreed. As for the past lives in Middle Earth. . .I've only made one decision for the reincarnations. That is Gandalf, whose reincarnation will be revealed at the end of the story. I suppose you could see Rick and Evy as Faramir and Eowyn's previous incarnations, and Ardeth and Celia as Aragorn and Arwen's. But I honestly wasn't thinking in those terms, more like. . .parallels. . .than actual reincarnations.  
  
Sailor Elf: Yeah, but if you weren't a bit crazy, I'd worry about you! If you felt badly for everyone in the last chapter, you'll feel even worse for them in this one.  
  
Deana: Thank you, dear. . .here's the next chapter!  
  
Part Seven  
  
While Gandalf escorted the shaken king to his son's grave, Legolas and Aragorn carried Ardeth to a room, led by Lady Eowyn. Gimli brought up the rear, carrying his own axe, as well as Ardeth's scimitar. Legolas vaguely heard the dwarf muttering under his breath about Saruman and what Gimli would do to the wizard if ever he had the opportunity. However, Legolas was more concerned with getting Ardeth settled.  
  
Eowyn worked quickly and efficiently once they reached the room in question, first removing the chieftain's cloak. Remembering what Ardeth told them about that cloak, Legolas said, "Here, my Lady. I will take that. . .twas a gift from Ardeth's wife, on their wedding day. I believe he will be more comfortable with it nearby." Eowyn looked up, somewhat startled, then nodded. Legolas inclined his head to her, and neatly folded the cloak.  
  
It smelled of sweat and blood, and an underlying scent of flowers. At least, the elf *thought* it smelled like flowers. Legolas remembered what Ardeth told him. . .how his wife would dab some of her perfume whenever he went away. He knew not what sort of perfume she cherished, but it mattered little. The elf placed the cloak beside the Man's head, and surely enough, Ardeth turned his head until his cheek lay against the material. He breathed something, and Legolas was sure it was his wife's name.  
  
Eowyn was barely paying attention, however. . .she finished unfastening his robes, drawing in a breath at the sight of the stab wound. It was healing, yes, but it was still a source of pain and weakness for the proud warrior. Eowyn murmured, "He fought with this? Oh, foolish, foolish man!" She shook her head, and said, "I will do what I can for him. Do you wish to stay with him, in case he wakes up?"  
  
"I think that would be wise, my lady. He has only been in our world for a matter of days, and we do not wish him to be. . .uncomfortable when he awakens," Aragorn answered, inclining his head to her. Eowyn was regarding him with some suspicion. . .no doubt, because he stopped her when she tried to run to her uncle's aid. Legolas could understand that. However, he also understood that Eowyn could have endangered herself, or the casting-out, by interfering. No matter how well intentioned that interference was.  
  
"I think we should take shifts with the lad," Gimli said, "so someone he knows is with him at all times. Will he be all right, lass?" Eowyn flashed him a half-smile as she checked Ardeth's ribs. The smile faded as she took note of the broken ribs. No doubt realizing what she would say next, Gimli explained, "The lad is a warrior. He knows better than anyone what he can and cannot do. We needed him. . .and he did not fall until after the work was complete."  
  
"And for that, I am grateful. But these injuries. . .he has been through so much already, and these injuries are new. He should be resting for the next several days, but you men never allow yourselves to heal properly," Eowyn answered with a touch of bitterness. The trio looked at her as she began to clean Ardeth's stab wound once more, more than a little surprised by her bitterness. The girl continued, "I have a brother, and I had a cousin, both warriors. I know all too well what warriors are like, even when they are wounded."  
  
"Ardeth was brought here for a specific reason, my Lady," Aragorn replied quietly, "and if he does not fulfill that purpose, there is a good chance he will not be allowed to go home. That is the wish of his heart. . .to go home to his wife and children, to his people. He will do whatever needs to be done, to accomplish that." Eowyn looked up at that, appearing startled by Aragorn's words.  
  
However, all she said was, "He will do his wife and children no good if he kills himself before he can even return home. She is a warrior's wife, yes? The wives and daughters, sisters and mothers of warriors are required to be strong." Aragorn inclined his head, acknowledging this point. The shieldmaiden continued, "So, she is strong enough to do what is required of her while he is away. He can put his faith in her."  
  
All of this was true. Lady Eowyn continued, "But knowing of her husband's bravery is no substitute for having him there. I would give whatever I could to give my uncle back his son, and bring my cousin back to me." Again, Legolas scarcely thought that Celia Bey would argue with any of that. The shieldmaiden shook her head, muttering under her breath about foolish men and even more foolish choices.  
  
However, her hands were gentle as she wrapped his ribs once more, and probed for any bleeding inside. Obviously, she noticed the bruises covering his torso. The relief on her face told them that Ardeth was spared that, at least. Legolas thought little of the propriety. Lady Eowyn, it seemed, was gifted in the art of healing. Ardeth required aid, and that was the only propriety that mattered. At last, Eowyn bound up the wound once more, and said, "He will most likely sleep for several hours. Tell him when he awakens that no matter how much I might grumble and chastise, I am grateful to him for his valor, and for my uncle's life."  
  
With that, she gently caressed Ardeth's black hair from his forehead, murmuring to him in her own language, then said, "You must be hungry. I will speak with the cook, and arrange for food to be brought to you. Decide amongst yourselves who will take the first watch. The others should eat and rest. I am certain that Saruman will not rest easily after this defeat, however small." She rose to her feet gracefully and left the room, leaving the three males to make the necessary decision.  
  
. . .  
  
Ardeth's vision told him true. . .when Gandalf the *White* pushed Saruman out of Theoden's body, the force knocked him backward. He landed hard on his rump and went skidding back halfway across the floor. A *most* undignified position for a wizard to find himself in, especially a white wizard. Fortunately, no one was present to witness his humiliating defeat at the hands of the younger Istari. Fortunate for Saruman, and fortunate for anyone who might have seen it.  
  
Fortunate, because the wizard was seething and of a mind to destroy anything that might have witnessed his ungraceful fall. . .orc, Uruk-hai, Man, or another wizard. It mattered not. Saruman struggled to his feet, resolutely ignoring his sore bum and the other various bruises he collected when he was bodily ejected from his puppet. He shook his long white hair from his eyes, trying to shake off the sense of failure with it. At this, too, Saruman failed miserably. He cursed Ardeth Bey yet again, for disrupting his plans, then cursed whatever decreed the Med-jai would land just outside Fangorn Forest.  
  
Oh yes, Saruman was quite angry. He was angry with himself, with his foolish servant, with Theoden, and with Gandalf. Why couldn't the fool simply stay dead? He was only bringing Sauron's wrath upon his head, just asking for his total annihilation. Grima failed him. Saruman wasn't sure how, just yet, but he would figure it out soon enough. And Theoden. . .Theoden helped to push Saruman out, though he was certain the king didn't realize it. Theoden King fought him every step of the way. He did not give up his body or soul willingly.  
  
And that damnable Med-jai. . .again, Saruman burned with fury, just thinking about the young man. The Med-jai was proving to be more trouble than he was worth. He was joining forces with the remains of the Fellowship, and worse, was forming a bond of brotherhood with the very man for whom he was meant to be a mirror in darkness. Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Damnable boy! Damn the entire future race of Men, for not leaving well enough alone. Saruman sensed Ardeth Bey's friends opening the portal, not passing through it, just opening it enough to see what was happening to their friend. That particular violation seriously tempted Saruman to reach through and bring someone else into this Middle Earth.  
  
The only thing that stayed his hand was knowing none of those on the other side of the portal was the one who could make a difference in swaying Ardeth Bey. His wife, Celia. No, she chose to remain in her city, with her children. With her husband's people. Yes, the young king did love Evelyn O'Connell as a younger sister, but there was not the passionate devotion he had to his wife. In addition, Saruman seriously doubted if the woman's husband would allow her to go anywhere without him. . .in which case, she would be of no use to him.  
  
And what exactly what Rick O'Connell doing there, aside from keeping his wife out of trouble? This was something that confused Saruman far more than he would have liked to admit. He was Istari. . .he didn't become confused. Much less by the actions of some frail Man whom he turned so easily. He could predict what Boromir would do next. . .what his father, Denethor, would do. But Rick O'Connell was a puzzle.  
  
Judging from the conversation he heard in snatches, it almost seemed as if he was there to retrieve Ardeth, but that couldn't be right. It was too easy for Saruman to infiltrate his mind and his soul, too easy to turn him against Ardeth Bey. It was too easy. . .he didn't care anything about the Med-jai. And Imhotep? What was he doing here? Surely he didn't care anything for the descendents of those who cursed him?  
  
No, far more likely he was there because of the ghost. And she was there out of loyalty to her friend, the Med-jai queen. There was a time when Saruman would have understood such loyalty and such affection. A time when he understood that people who care for each other and stay true to each other are capable of the most impossible tasks. . .whether those people are Med-jai warriors, exiled kings, woodland elves, irascible dwarves, or small hobbits.  
  
But when he joined forces with Sauron, he forgot all of these things. Oh, he told himself that Gandalf turned against him. He told himself that he gave the other wizard a chance to join him and Sauron. . .a chance to join the winning side. But in telling himself these things, Saruman conveniently forgot that he betrayed his order, and everything they believed in when he swore fealty to the Dark Lord.  
  
Never mind that now. With an impatient wave of his hand, Saruman turned the picture from the four people of the distant future, to a place far closer to home. Literally. A rider was approaching Isengard. . .Saruman did not need his magic to tell him that the rider was Grima Wormtongue. Saruman considered killing his servant before the turncoat even reached the gates. After a moment, however, he dismissed that notion. He might yet be useful, and if that was the situation, it would be foolhardy of him to kill Wormtongue.  
  
Besides, with his aid, he almost had Rohan. He might yet recapture it. . .or even better, destroy it. One less kingdom to stand against him. One less opponent of Saruman and Sauron. And since Theoden was no longer his puppet, he would need help in planning his next move. In order to predict a Man's next move, it was necessary to think like a Man. Saruman was Istari, which made that task difficult. . .but Wormtongue was a Man. He knew Theoden even better than Saruman. He would be able to tell the wizard what the king would do next. His spy was gone from Rohan, but he was bringing his knowledge to Saruman.  
  
Yes. Saruman nodded, calming down as he thought about that. Wormtongue could tell him what Theoden would do, with the incursions of the Uruk-hai and the wild men into the lands of Rohan. He unleashed the wild men against the farmers and peasants of Rohan. That took little magic. . .only knowing that the wild men resented the farmers for taking their lands. Such bitterness, such hatred, needed only a focus.  
  
Bitterness and resentment were such beautiful weapons, because they provided one such as himself with an additional source of power. All it took was a whisper, and that whisper became a flame, and then a wild fire. It was a lesson to be learned over and over through the centuries. First by renegade Istari, then by renegade Elves, and of course, renegade Men. Men who fell victim to empty promises of power, men who fell victim to greed. Neither of these truths took away from the greater truth.  
  
And what was this greater truth? Distract the enemy, or better yet, turn allies against each other. . .and then hit them. Sometimes, it wasn't even necessary to hit them, because they destroyed themselves or each other. Leaving your own hands clean. It wasn't complex strategy at all. . .only common sense. The Uruk-hai were doing their part. . .the wild men were doing their part. They were legion, while the Rohirrim and the Fellowship were but a few.  
  
Saruman allowed himself a smile, relaxing as he reminded himself of the greater number, and greater power. He had his Uruk-hai army. He had the orcs. He had the wild men, and he had the Easterlings. What did the pathetic Fellowship have, hmm? A Man, an elf, a dwarf, and a wizard. That was all that was left of the Fellowship that set out from Rivendell. The hobbits were beneath his notice. Only the Ringbearer was of importance, and he would soon fall into their hands.  
  
There was no need for him to fret. . .no cause for concern. The might of Sauron and the magic of Saruman would win out over all. Then let Gandalf enjoy this hollow victory while it lasted. Again, his eyes strayed to the border of trees that remained, out of all the trees once standing around Isengard. There were still the Ents, but they paid little attention to the outside world. Though years passed since Saruman conversed with any of the Ents, he knew the way they thought. He had nothing to fear from them.  
  
They would not. . .they could not. . .stop the Two Towers from remaking this world. They could not stop the creation of a new order. They could not stop the destruction of the old. They were merely standing in the way of progress, and for that, they would die. There was no place for those who opposed Sauron, there was no place for those who lacked the vision for this new world.  
  
While Saruman's tactics were as old as time, so were his mistakes. They would be made not just by Saruman and Sauron, but by others over the centuries, over the centuries. It was truly ironic, that as Saruman jeered the mistakes and foibles of his enemies, it never even occurred to him that he was making the same mistakes, exhibiting the same flaws. Then again, it is usually different when one makes such errors, as opposed to other people, other beings. It is always different for someone else.  
  
The greatest truth that Saruman was ignoring was this. . .no being is infallible. Istari, elf, dwarf, Man, it mattered not at all. What gave the Fellowship the edge over Saruman was twofold: their loyalty to each other, and their own self-knowledge. They knew they would make mistakes. . .and they learned from those mistakes after they made them. Saruman's greatest folly was he always made the same mistake.  
  
He never learned it until it was entirely too late for him. And as Gandalf predicted, Sauron shared power with no one. Thus, there was no one there to save Saruman from himself.  
  
. . .  
  
Ardeth slept through Theoden's visit to his son's grave. Slept through the arrival of the peasant children. He slept through the meeting that took place between Gandalf, Aragorn, Eowyn, Gimli, Legolas, and Theoden. He slept through Theoden's assertion that he would not risk open warfare. Thus, when he finally woke a few hours later, approximately around the same time Grima Wormtongue was reaching Isengard, it was to learn they were leaving Edoras and heading for the mountain fortress of Helm's Deep.  
  
It was Gimli who told him about this, the dwarf adding a few additional choice words about Theoden's intelligence. Or rather, lack thereof. Nor was the dwarf particularly keen on Ardeth getting up, until the chieftain pointed out that it was necessary for him to get up eventually. They were leaving Edoras, and the sooner he was on his feet, the easier it would be for them later. Gimli still didn't like it, but he couldn't ignore the truth of Ardeth's words.  
  
So, Gimli took several steps back, until Ardeth could stand up. He was still somewhat wobbly, and for a few seconds, he wasn't sure if his legs would hold him. Once he felt steadier, the chieftain looked at the dwarf, observing, "Lead off, MacDuff." Gimli registered a double take. Ardeth immediately realized his mistake, and sighed, "My apologies, Gimli. It is slang where my wife comes from, and it is simply another way of saying I am ready."  
  
"Well, thank you for saying so, lad. Your wife's people have strange ways of speaking. Does she ever confuse your people with her odd sayings?" Gimli asked. Ardeth thought about the two years of his marriage, and the Med-jai's slow acclimation to the late twentieth century and early twenty- first century. He thought about the Internet and email. His younger brother created a website for the Med-jai, the web address known only to their people.  
  
He also thought briefly about trying to explain to Gimli about computers, about the internet, about email, and about instant messaging. However, he dismissed that idea. It would take too long. Perhaps during the journey to Helms Deep?  
  
Instead, he replied, "Aywa, sometimes, but they are not so unfamiliar with her sayings. Through their education and their travels, they have encountered others of my wife's culture, and so the young warriors are better able to understand her. The elders still become annoyed when Med- jai youth uses American slang. However, my mother finds it amusing, and reminds them that Celia has learned some of our sayings as well. In her view, it all balances out."  
  
"I like the sound of your mother, lad. Is she Med-jai, or is she American, like your Celia?" Gimli asked. Ardeth frowned thoughtfully, having a vague memory of discussing this earlier, then shook his head mentally. Even if they did, it didn't matter. Ardeth, though his memory was hazy, had all of his faculties, and he knew Gimli was still not totally comfortable with him. That was all right. . .it was to be expected.  
  
"La, she is neither by birth. She was born in Greece, a country with which Egypt has long been affiliated. I am the only child of five who was not given a Greek name," Ardeth explained as Gimli led him to the others. The dwarf looked at him several times as they walked, though the Med-jai could not tell if Gimli was checking up on him, or if he was simply reassuring Ardeth that he was, indeed, listening.  
  
"If your name is not Greek, lad, then what is it?" Gimli asked. Again, Ardeth frowned. Did he not mention this when he told them the story of Lady Ardath and Rameses? He thought he did, but could not be sure. And in any event, Gimli *was* asking him these questions. It would have been most rude not to answer him. However, it would have to wait a few minutes, as Ardeth needed to catch his breath.  
  
"It is a variation on the name of my ancestress, Lady Ardath. . .when she was murdered, only a week after the birth of her son, Rameses named their child after her. He changed the spelling, and gave the little boy to Shakir Bey to raise. He felt he was not strong enough, not worthy enough to raise her final gift to him," Ardeth answered at last. He paused a moment, then added, "And my name has been an honored one among the Med-jai ever since."  
  
"Aye, that makes sense. From what you told us of the lass, Lady Ardath sounded like quite an interesting lady," Gimli answered. Ardeth shot a dark look toward his companion, but Gimli didn't really pay attention. Instead, the dwarf winked at him under his heavy brows, adding, "Aye, laddie, you told us about Lady Ardath and her Rameses, but it kept your mind off walking this distance, did it not?"  
  
For the first time, Ardeth looked over his shoulder, then blinked. They were outside the castle walls, and heading for the stables where Shadowfax and the other horses were resting. He turned a hard stare onto Gimli, who didn't look at all fazed. The dwarf continued, "I think you should go ahead, lad. Aragorn and Gandalf will probably want to discuss a few things with you. I'll just wait with that pointy-eared menace."  
  
At this reference to Legolas, Ardeth smiled and teased, "Are you certain you wish to make such a sacrifice on my behalf?" Gimli growled, though his eyes twinkled. Ardeth continued, "You have already made many sacrifices on my behalf, and I am thankful to you."  
  
Now Gimli actually seemed to be blushing, and he replied, "Ah, lad, there is no need to thank me, to thank any of us. You're a good lad, and I am sorry it took me so long to accept that. Now go along with you. The sooner Gandalf is off, the sooner he can find the Rohirrim, and the sooner they can all return." With that, he took up position beside Legolas, and Ardeth made his way to the stables.  
  
As he approached the stall where Shadowfax was placed when they first arrived. . .was it truly earlier that morning? Ardeth heard Gandalf tell Aragorn, "Three hundred of men's lifetimes have I lived, and now I have no time." Ardeth stepped into the light when Gandalf stiffened. The wizard smiled, relaxing when he saw the chieftain, and said, "Ah, Ardeth. There you are. Are you feeling any better?"  
  
"Aywa. Gimli has told me what we're doing. . .including your journey to find the Rohirrim. Is there anything you wish for me to do while you are gone?" Ardeth asked. It was a strange position in which to find himself. Usually, he was the one giving orders. But right now, he was in a world he didn't understand, in a fight that he barely understood. He was the stranger in this world. . .he would gladly take his orders from Gandalf or Aragorn.  
  
"Yes, my dear boy. First and foremost, you must take care of yourself. Aragorn will have need of you in this journey. As I have told him, while Theoden has a strong will, I worry for him. He does not understand the enemy we face. Nor does he accept what we tell him. You are to be Aragorn's aide in this battle. Make sure the defenses hold. . .make sure the wall holds," Gandalf instructed.  
  
Ardeth nodded, though he had no idea what the defenses were like, or what this wall of which Gandalf spoke. The wizard continued, "On the morning of the fifth day, look for me. Look to the east." Both Ardeth and Aragorn nodded this time, and Gandalf sighed, then smiled at them. He added, "May the Valar be with you both." Aragorn nodded, and opened the gate, freeing the Lord of Horses from his unintentional prison.  
  
Shadowfax burst out, and Gandalf raced out of the stables, narrowly running over Legolas and Gimli in the process. The four stood silently in the stables for several moments, until finally, it was Gimli who broke the silence, asking, "All right. . .now what do we do?" Ardeth barely suppressed a grin at the dwarf's wry tone, and instead, turned his attention to Aragorn. The older man was staring after Gandalf.  
  
However, he replied after a moment, "We return to the castle and help with the packing. There is much work to be done, and little time in which to do it. Ardeth, you stay with me." Legolas and Gimli nodded, and the pair started back to the castle. Aragorn turned his head to regard the younger man, saying quietly, "You fought well in the Hall. But please. . .do not push yourself to that stage again."  
  
For a moment, a brief, bright moment, he sounded just like Suleiman Bey, advising his sons to be careful. Ardeth was thirteen when his father died, but he often defended his home before becoming a true warrior. Then Suleiman disappeared, replaced by Aragorn once more.  
  
Ardeth returned the gaze steadily, answering, "I do what must be done. And as I told you earlier, I have fought in far worse condition. I know my limits better than you do, Aragorn. You needed the additional help." All right, maybe that wasn't *entirely* true. However, Ardeth continued, "I did what was necessary. . .and I will do it again. Whatever it takes." Aragorn sighed and looked away once more, now at the departing figures of Gimli and Legolas.  
  
"I know. That is what concerns me. I wish you to return to your wife and children in better condition than the one in which you arrived. However, I do not know if that is possible," came the reply. Ardeth thought about telling Aragorn that it wasn't important. However, he knew better. It was important to Aragorn, and it was important to Ardeth. Instead, he kept silent. Besides, he was tiring once more, and wished to conserve his remaining energy. The battle for Theoden's body and soul was won. The battle for Helms Deep was yet to begin.  
  
. . .  
  
"So. We know that my husband was wounded, and we know that he is in the hands of friends. I would call this little experiment a success. We learned something new, we learned the name of our enemy, and no one was hurt." Each of these points were ticked off on a finger as the Med-jai queen listed the reasons why they should not regard the events of that morning as a failure.  
  
And he could hardly argue with those points. However, Imhotep was very good at, if one could pardon the phrase, playing the devil's advocate. He said, "All of this is true, little queen. However, we still do not know how to fight this magic. Nor do we know of a way to bring Ardeth home, which, I believe is the entire point to this exercise." The young woman turned to face him, an annoyed expression settling on her face.  
  
"Imhotep, we went into this with the idea that we would learn what we could. Or rather, that you would learn what you can, since I couldn't go with," Celia answered. Her hands rested lightly on her hips, and the sun streaming in through the kitchen windows gave her dark hair a reddish glow. Gone were her official, ceremonial Med-jai robes from the night before, and in their place were her preferred clothes. . .jeans and a t-shirt, her hair pulled back into a ponytail. This last had the effect of making her look much younger than her twenty-nine years.  
  
Imhotep chose not to bring this particular fact to her attention. The little queen was a bit sensitive about her age. No doubt, yet another result of her affiliation with the Legacy. Though she was only three years younger than Ardeth, Imhotep quickly learned that because she looked so much younger, Celia found it difficult to get people to take her seriously. On the other hand, among the Med-jai, that problem wasn't quite so prevalent.  
  
Imhotep guessed that seeing the little queen disarm and push an opponent to her knees would have that effect. He witnessed the late and unlamented Sanure's attack on Celia, after all previous attempts at provocation failed miserably. He also had the inexpressible joy of seeing Sanure's stunned expression when the little queen turned back her attack, forced Sanure to her knees, then held her in place with a knife at her throat.  
  
After that confrontation, the Med-jai began to regard Celia with a little more respect, regardless of her youth. She proved to them all that she was willing to stand up for herself and her daughter, and to fight for their chieftain. There were still many Med-jai who would never accept her. However, these same Med-jai also refused to speak up for Sanure when she went too far, almost killing both the little queen and baby Andreas.  
  
Rick O'Connell interrupted, asking, "All right, we know what we accomplished and what we didn't accomplish. So. . .what now?" Imhotep glanced at the other man, wanting desperately to be irritated with him. Unfortunately, he looked genuinely concerned, and seemed interested in preventing tempers from rising further.  
  
Celia released a deep breath, answering, "I'm not sure there's anything else we can do. Like Imhotep said, he doesn't understand this magic, and in order to fight it. . . Well, you get my point, I'm sure." Indeed. Like the tip of Ardeth's scimitar. The queen closed her eyes for a moment, weariness settling into her features. After a moment, she opened her eyes once more and said, "As much as I hate to say this, I think the only thing we can do now. . .is wait."  
  
Wait? Wait for what? Imhotep could make more trips to that place, he could learn more if he spent more time there! Celia continued, "There is no way for us to open the portal from this side, not if we want to go through. And I'm afraid that even if we did. . .whoever went through might end up more of a liability to Ardeth than a real help. We don't know what exactly he's trying to do there, and we don't know enough about this Saruman's capabilities."  
  
"No, we do not. . .but we can learn! Little queen, I beg of you. We are so close to learning something about this portal. Perhaps even a way to close it once Ardeth is returned to us. Let me return to the site, learn what I can about this magic, and perhaps I can bring the young king home," Imhotep said. Celia tilted her head to one side, a faint smile appearing.  
  
"You know, until I started aiding Ardeth in his duties as a chieftain, I never fully understood what he meant. . .how he was caught between being a chieftain and being a husband and father. I could see how it happened, I could see how he would be torn between being a chieftain and a man. But until it actually happened to me. . .now I understand. The wife in me says we should do exactly what you say, Imhotep, and try to tip the balance in Ardeth's favor."  
  
She sighed, leaning back against a counter, then pulling herself upward to sit atop it. It was a habit that Imhotep had a hard time understanding. However, it was her counter, her kitchen, and her house, so he never questioned it. Celia continued, her eyes haunted, "The queen in me says something totally different. We cannot risk such an attempt. We have done all we can. . .now, we must have faith in Ardeth."  
  
Have faith. It was the worst thing she could have asked of him. Imhotep stared at her, appalled. Celia continued softly, ignoring his condemning gaze, "I am Ardeth's wife, and I know better than anyone else what his strengths and weaknesses are. Just as I know that he is too experienced a warrior, too experienced a leader not to know how to turn those weaknesses into strengths. He can turn things to his advantage."  
  
She paused, took a deep breath, and looked over at the O'Connells. Evelyn was nodding quietly, and O'Connell looked. . .worried. That, in turn, worried Imhotep. Celia continued, "As the wife of the chieftain, my primary duty now is to protect the Med-jai people. That, in case you've forgotten, Imhotep, includes you. You have no idea how much I wish I could say yes to your suggestion. But I can't. I can only have faith in my husband."  
  
"But. . .but. . .you *love* Ardeth! And when you love someone, you would do anything for them. I have seen you do it, little queen, I have seen you move heaven, hell, and earth to protect and defend him, to protect and defend your children! How, now when he needs you most, can you simply do nothing? How can you turn away from your husband now?" Imhotep exclaimed. Poor choice of words on his part.  
  
Celia was on the point of turning away, and her body stilled as she stopped in her tracks. She turned back to face him, and Imhotep took a half step backward at her expression. Celia hissed, her eyes flashing with rage, "Is that what you think? Do you think I am turning my back on my husband? Nothing could be further from the truth, Imhotep! I will hold him in my heart every day until he comes back to us, and I can hold him in my arms. But I know. . .I *know* that there is nothing more we can do, not until Ardeth's task in that world is complete. Why do I think he has a task to complete? Because that seems to be the way things work."  
  
She turned to go again, but it seemed her temper hadn't yet run its course. Celia swung back to face him, almost trembling, and said, "And another thing. Who says I'm doing nothing? One of the first things Ardeth taught me about taking care of the Med-jai while he was away, was to assess the situation. . .assess the risks to *everyone* involved. . .and make a decision based on that. The information has been gathered. It is too risky!"  
  
Imhotep opened his mouth to protest, but Celia wasn't finished. Wasn't even close to being finished, it would seem. The little queen continued, her hazel eyes burning with anger touched with anguish, "Let's say for the sake of argument, Imhotep, that I agreed. Extrapolate a little, and say that you succeeded. You figured out this Saruman's magic, and you got the portal to open. What's to stop Saruman from snatching you?"  
  
She folded her arms over her chest and raised her eyebrows questioningly. Imhotep started to answer, then realized he didn't know what to say. He never thought about that. In all honesty, he never thought that far in advance. Celia nodded, but curiously, there was no triumph in her eyes. Only sadness. . .only exhaustion. There was pain there, and some fear. Imhotep felt ashamed. He forgot how this had to be affecting her. Ardeth was her husband, after all. And she loved him, though her love was of a different sort than Imhotep's. Celia said softly, "Didn't think so. Now you know how I felt while we were prisoners of Lock- nah and Toth."  
  
Now, Imhotep truly felt small. How helpless she must have felt. . .wanting desperately to voice her protests and protect her husband, but keeping silent to better protect him, and their unborn child. For the first time, he could see what things must have been like for her, and it made him even more ashamed for implying that Celia didn't love Ardeth. She was trying to do right by her husband, the only way she could.  
  
He put his hands on her shoulders, murmuring, "Forgive me, little queen. I was allowing my pride to do my thinking for me." Celia nodded, dropping her head. She looked so tired. Imhotep continued, "Rest now. . .your children and the Med-jai still have need of you. The O'Connells, Anck-su-namun, and I can. . ." Imhotep stopped, trying desperately to come up with the word. Then a light bulb went on inside of his head, and he finished triumphantly, "We can brainstorm, perhaps find something we missed."  
  
Celia opened her eyes and cast a longing look toward her bedroom. Anck-su-namun added, "You will not be alone, my sister. I can be in two places at once." There was a long moment, then the little queen nodded. Imhotep squeezed her shoulders gently, knowing of no other way to extend his support to her. Celia wearily took her leave of them. Imhotep watched her go, then turned his attention to the others. Anck-su-namun was disappearing slowly, to carry out her own task.  
  
. . .  
  
Out of sheer habit, Celia went to the rooms of her children first, to check on them. She shook her head, annoyed with herself when she remembered that Miranda and Andreas were with their grandmother. With another shake of her head, she left the nursery and went into the room she shared with Ardeth. His clothes were lying in a heap on the floor, and Celia smiled in spite of herself. It wasn't like her husband, to be so careless with his clothing.  
  
But he was exhausted when he returned the previous day. Celia's smile faded as she thought about the way Ardeth curled in her arms once they finished the bath. She fell asleep as well, of course. But he was beyond exhausted, just curled up in her arms, so his head rested against her chest, and fell asleep. She fell asleep not long after, her fingers combing through his still-wet hair.  
  
Celia gently placed her husband's robes and trousers in the dirty clothes hamper she brought with her from the Legacy House. But as soon as the clothing left her hands, Celia was stunned to realize she felt utterly. . .bereft. She swallowed hard and went into the bathroom, retrieving the bathrobe he wore yesterday afternoon, after he washed. It still smelled of soap and water and shampoo and Ardeth.  
  
Celia held it to her chest, fighting back her tears. Despite her brave words to Imhotep, nothing about this was easy for her. She knew she was doing the right thing. . .not just for her husband, but for the Med-jai as well. But that didn't make her hurt any less. She wanted Ardeth home. . .she wanted him home, and safe, she wanted him in her arms. She wanted to hear him call her his Inara. Wanted him to reprimand her for calling her bosom 'infected mosquito bites.'  
  
Once more, she smiled in spite of herself. Ardeth *hated* it when she said things like that. She wasn't like Evy or Anck, both of whom had nice figures. The only time she didn't look like a pancake was when she was pregnant and nursing her child. On the other hand, Celia had to admit that this particular truth never kept Ardeth from worshipping her body. It never kept Rameses from worshipping Ardath's body, either.  
  
Oh yes, Ardeth hated it when she disparaged herself in any way. She once told him that she didn't have a woman's body. She was slim and wiry, with none of Evy or Anck's curves. Ardeth cupped her face in his hands and replied very seriously that she was a woman, and she had a woman's body. There was no one womanly shape. . .women came in an assortment of shapes and sizes. It was what was in her heart that was the most important.  
  
And when he told her such things, she found it so much easier to believe him. Ardeth had this amazing gift, of allowing her to see her through his eyes. He made her feel beautiful. Beautiful in a way that was hers alone. She wasn't like Evy or Anck, she wasn't stunning or breath- taking. She was just Celia, and somehow, for Ardeth, that was good enough. But right now, Ardeth wasn't here. . .right now, she wasn't sure that 'just Celia' would be good enough to see them through this. . .good enough for any of them.  
  
She wanted her husband home. She wanted to agree to Imhotep's plan, she wanted to forget her responsibilities to the Med-jai, and to her children. But she couldn't. If she did such a thing, she would betray Ardeth. She would betray her husband, she would betray her children, she would betray herself. If she allowed Imhotep to go back to that place, and try to open it once more, he, and whoever was with him, would be taken by this Saruman.  
  
Celia knew this. Her heart cried out against this truth, but it was truth, nonetheless. While she was in the Legacy, she often heard about Winston Rayne and his 'faith has need of the whole truth.' Idiot. Didn't he realize that statement contradicted itself? She had no way of knowing that her husband would survive whatever he was meant to do in this other place. But she had to have faith in him. There was no other choice for her. She had to have faith in her husband, she had to believe in him.  
  
'Faith has need of the whole truth,' indeed! Celia smiled grimly, remembering something that one of her teammates in Chicago often said. 'Faith has need of the whole truth,' Cynthia said with a droll expression some time before Celia left Chicago, 'but apparently, Derek Rayne's team does not.' Faith has need of the whole truth. Like father, like son, it would seem. Neither had faith in those under their command. Neither man ever bothered to tell their team members what was going on. Neither trusted. Neither had faith, and that thought brought the Legacy to the forefront of Celia's mind.  
  
What if Ardeth didn't come back before the Legacy sent their special investigative team to Cairo? Celia shuddered at the idea of dealing with them alone. She had no quarrel with Derek Rayne on a personal level. . .but after everything that happened during the last few years, she trusted the Legacy about as much as Ardeth did. Not at all. Even as the thought crossed her mind, however, the queen felt her resolve harden. She wouldn't be alone. She had Anck, she had Imhotep. . .Rick and Evy. And the entire Med-jai army. While some of the warriors still resented her, and some would never accept her. . .  
  
She was their queen, the wife of their chieftain. And the Legacy were outsiders. The Legacy was responsible for Celia being kidnapped, for Miranda's kidnapping, and Ardeth almost dying. She was once Legacy, but she was now one of theirs, and the Legacy was the outsider. The Med-jai would take care of her, if Ardeth wasn't here, because she was their chieftain's wife. The Med-jai took care of their own.  
  
With that problem resolved, if only in her mind, exhaustion once more swamped over Celia. She was so damn tired. With wobbly legs, she made her way over to her bed. She didn't sleep alone the previous night. Miranda crawled into bed beside her, perhaps needing reassurance that her mother wouldn't leave her. Though Ardeth wasn't her birth father, in some ways, Miranda really was Daddy's girl. But she remained as protective of Celia now as she was when Ardeth Bey first came into their lives.  
  
Miranda didn't entirely understand what was going on. It wasn't the Med-jai way to 'protect' their children from the ugliness of life. Celia told her daughter something happened to Papa while he was with Uncle Rick and Aunt Evy. A very bad man kidnapped him and took him to a place they couldn't find. Beyond that, how exactly did she explain to her six year old daughter about a portal to another. . . place?  
  
Andreas sensed something was wrong. Babies often did. Small children often did. He sensed his mother's fear and, yes, her grief as well. He didn't stop crying until he finally fell asleep. It seemed foolish to Celia, that she was grieving when she didn't even know that her husband was dead. But at the time, the grief was as real as her anger. She didn't know if she would ever see her husband again, and that frightened her.  
  
Curiously, the one thing that never crossed her mind was whether or not it was worth it. It simply wasn't an issue. Celia was frightened more often in the last two years than she was in all the time she was in the Legacy. Like her younger brother, she joined the Legacy when she was eighteen. She married Ardeth when she was twenty-seven. . . that was nine years in the Legacy. Plus, her eighteen years as a 'Legacy brat.'  
  
Yes, she was frightened more often in the last two years than in the previous twenty-seven. And yes, she was in danger every day of her life. But, the same was true while she was in the Legacy. While she was 'just a researcher' (her precept's distinction, not her own), Celia was still in danger, just by being a member of the Legacy. And besides. . .she had Ardeth now. She had Ardeth, she had the children, and she had the entire Med-jai nation. Ardeth alone made every second of the fear, every second of the danger, worth it.  
  
When she stopped and thought about it, it sometimes took her breath away, that she was so lucky to have Ardeth Bey as her husband. She told him once that even in her wildest dreams, she never imagined she would find someone like him. And the funny thing was, he couldn't understand why she would say that. Perhaps 'funny' wasn't the right word, but even as she was amazed by her great fortune, Ardeth was amazed she would even say that.  
  
Celia smiled, drawing the bathrobe close to her once more, rubbing her cheek against the soft material. Yes. She was breathtakingly fortunate in her husband. When they first married, she told him that she understood she couldn't be his first priority. Even so, they both struggled to find a balance. . .both as husband and wife, but also as chieftain and chieftain's lady. Like Ardeth, Celia was uncomfortable with the notion of being considered royalty. That never stopped anyone from calling her their queen, and in time, Celia just accepted it.  
  
She accepted a great many things over the last few years. And what frightened her now was that she was starting to understand the way some of the Legacy members thought. They made a deal with the devil for their own means. . .while she knew if she didn't stay strong, Celia feared she would make a deal with another devil to bring her husband home. She could not do that. She could not betray Ardeth like that.  
  
But right now, in the privacy of her bedroom, Celia Ferguson Bey was no one's queen. Here, she didn't have to be worried about staying strong. Here, she was free to cry. And here, she did cry, burying her face in her husband's bathrobe. She prayed to whatever god happened to be listening to take care of her husband and watch over him, wherever he was. Whoever was listening. . .just. . .please. Bring him back safely. Just bring him back to us.  
  
. . .  
  
As Anck phased through the wall, she found Celia already lying on the bed she shared with Ardeth. She was crying soundlessly, Ardeth's bathrobe pressed against her cheek. Anck swallowed hard and sat down beside her friend. Sometimes when Celia missed her husband so much, it was a physical ache, she would go into his closets and drawers and dig out some of the clothes. She would fall asleep, holding these items of clothing, as if she was holding the man.  
  
For all that Imhotep respected Celia more than he did her previous incarnation, he still didn't understand her. Didn't comprehend that the decision she just made tore her heart out, but it was the only one that she could have made. Anck saw into her friend's soul, into her heart, into her mind. She knew that Celia wanted to do exactly what Imhotep thought they should do. She knew that Celia wanted nothing more than to ride to the caves with a patrol of Med-jai, and force the portal back open.  
  
But there was a reason only Ardeth was taken. This, too, Anck saw in Celia's mind. Rick O'Connell grabbed him, trying to keep him in their world. Saruman only wanted Ardeth, but something other than Saruman intervened in Ardeth's arrival. That meant this something, or someone, could have taken Rick as well, and Evelyn, too. If they were meant to be there. . . which they were not.  
  
So yes, Anck understood exactly what her friend was doing. Sometimes, the most loving thing you could do for a person. . .was to simply let go. Let go, and trust the other person. She was so intent on finding the words to comfort her friend, her sister, that Anck never even sensed she was no longer the only ghost in the room. At least, not until a soft voice said, *You have learned that lesson, one I believe Imhotep never will.*  
  
Startled, Anck first looked at Celia, who gave no indication of noticing the new presence, then she looked back at the newcomer. Her new companion smiled ruefully, adding, *Not that I have much room to talk, of course. It takes one of enormous strength to let go. I never had that strength. Nor did Rameses. In your lifetime, nor did you, but you have learned that since my daughter came back into your life.*  
  
Anck looked away, but Seti stepped closer and put his hand under her chin. His eyes were filled with compassion. . .not loathing, as she might have expected. The betrayed pharaoh said softly, *It is done, Anck-su- namun. We all made mistakes, we all paid for them. Some of us paid more than others. I hurt you, and I hurt my children. My own father was a commoner, a soldier, and I sat on the throne of Egypt. I should have never stood in the way of Rameses wedding Ardath. Much might have been different.*  
  
*You loved her, too. Why did I forget that there were others who loved my sister? I was so lost in my own grief, so angry at my own loss, I forgot that little Ardeth lost his mother, Rameses lost. . . She was so much more than his lover, his concubine. She was his sanctuary, his refuge, his bastion of sanity. The center of his world. . .and she kept everything in balance for him,* Anck answered, her own mind-voice barely above a whisper.  
  
*That was the beginning of some terrible upheavals, my dear Anck. Ardath's murder did not shock people. . .however, Rameses' reaction did. You must remember, my princess, that though no words were ever spoken, the entire court knew about what Rameses, Imhotep, Nassor, and Terumun did. They knew about Khaldun's capture, torture, and murder. And I know you do not wish to hear this, but many could not understand why Rameses would murder his own cousin over a mere concubine," Seti answered.  
  
*That* was something Anck knew entirely too well. She remembered one concubine in particular, another foreigner, who could have given the late Sanure lessons in bad behavior. Her name was Aoife in her native tongue, a member of Seti's own harem. Like Ardath, she came from what Anck now knew to be the British Isles. There, all resemblance ended. Ardath was tiny, fair-skinned, and dark-haired with a gentle, thoughtful personality. Her older counterpart was taller, for one thing. Like many who lived in Egypt at that time, she wore a wig of black hair to keep cool, but her own closely-cropped hair was naturally dark blonde.  
  
Aoife, in addition, loved to play the power game. She was the wife of a chieftain in her native land, something she never failed to remind the other concubines. She was quite displeased when she learned that hardly made her special. Seti himself told his concubine that Ardath was the daughter of a powerful man in her native country. . .and yet, she was now the concubine of Prince Rameses. She only had power because he willed it. Seti stared at his mistress a moment longer, to make sure she received the message. She did, and it silenced her. But only for a time. Before long, she was making mischief. Again.  
  
Such a conversation would never take place while Ardath was there to hear it. It would have made her entirely too uncomfortable. Power didn't interest her forever friend. And Ardath was already uncomfortable with Aoife. Anck said finally, *You mean, his brutal honesty frightened them. Those of whom you speak, they stabbed someone in the back while smiling at them. Rameses had no such pretense.*  
  
*Indeed. My son was always devastatingly honest, even when he was a child. There are some things, I am happy to see, that have not changed,* Seti answered. He smiled then, a genuine smile that reached his eyes. This was a man she could have loved, perhaps. Seti continued after a moment, *And yes, Anck. I did love Ardath. She made Rameses so happy, how could I not love her? I think that is why Nefertiri feared her as she did.*  
  
Feared her? Anck frowned, and Seti explained, *I speak the truth. My daughter feared Ardath. She saw how happy Rameses was, and life expectancy was rarely long in our age. Even for people of our status. 'Tiri had no way of knowing, of course, just how brutally short Ardath's life would be. . .or how she would die. But she feared how Rameses would take losing the woman he loved. She feared how she would react if she allowed herself to love her, too.*  
  
He paused, then looked directly at her, adding, *And you should know. Ardath's death had more far-reaching consequences than you guessed. Than anyone guessed, I believe, including members of my court. I think the only ones who might have seen it before I did were the Med-jai. It affected you, of course, and Rameses. It also affected me. It was her death which decided me. . .I would take you as my wife, and make you my queen. Perhaps even a God's Wife. Unfortunately, it never even occurred to me, to ask you what you wanted.*  
  
Anck surmised as much, over the last two years. However, she was touched by Seti's acknowledgment of his own mistakes. She would have never expected that. The concubine said softly, *So many lives changed by the death of a simple young concubine. She would be so proud of her descendent. . .she is so proud of him, I know that. He is so like her, Seti. I sometimes get lost in the similarities between Ardath and Celia. . .but there are similarities between her and her distant grandson.*  
  
*Tiyu, there are. Neither of them know how to give up, nor do they realize their true worth. Anck, you are needed here, to comfort Celia. My faithless priest and my daughter reborn, they will continue to debate this issue. O'Connell will do the same. But I? I can go where I wish. I am not limited to my time, or this time. You remain here, and comfort Celia. Support her, for she will have need of your strength,* Seti replied.  
  
Anck had a feeling she knew what the answer would be, but she asked the question any how. She and Seti talked more in the last few minutes than they did in all the time she was his mistress, three thousand years earlier. And strangely enough, now, in this time, in this place, Anck found she actually liked Seti. Perhaps it was because she was no longer his bed-mate. Perhaps because they never really had the chance to become friends. . .to know each other like that. The almost-queen asked softly, *And you, my pharaoh? Where will you be? Where are you needed?* Seti's answering smile was almost boyish, bordering almost on mischievous.  
  
*Where will I be? Why, with my son reborn, of course! I can go where I wish, see what I wish to see, without fear of capture or torture. And you should know, Anck-su-namun, that Saruman intended to torture Ardeth. . .he planned to torture the humanity right out of my son reborn. For that, I will see him dead,* came the reply. The mischief was gone, and now cold rage gleamed in the pharaoh's eyes.  
  
Anck swallowed, or at least, she would have, if she had a throat. Seti's eyes softened and he added, *But that is not your concern. Your place is here, at my daughter's side. That has always been your place, Anck-su-namun. I am counting on you. Take care of her, and I swear, I will take care of Ardeth. I did not save him two years ago, to see him die now. Have faith in that.* Anck nodded, startled, and Seti disappeared. Anck looked at Celia, whose sobs were now quieting. Even so. She had work to do. 


	9. Upon Leaving Edoras

Reviewers:  
  
Cavalia: Here is more, as requested! And see my email for the list of stories and their order.  
  
Mommints: (laughs) Well, under the circumstances, I can understand you hating Celia. If it's any consolation, I'm jealous of her, too. I would love to find my own Ardeth. Glad you liked the way Eowyn was written. . .she was one of my favorite characters in the last two movies of the trilogy. I particularly loved her confrontation with the Witch-King in 'Return of the King.' And as for Aragorn. . .well, I left most of those scenes intact. Here's more!  
  
Deana: I thought you might like the 'pointy-eared menace' line. It had Gimli written all over it, so to speak.  
  
Sailor Elf: Yes, you are a bit crazy in a good way. And of course I care. Celia will be worried until the day Ardeth is back in her arms, but she'll be getting some relief.  
  
In all honesty, I'm not pleased with this chapter, but after reading it multiple times, I can't figure out what to fix. So, consider this a transition chapter, until we get to the heavy-duty action (including the warg attack).  
  
Part Eight  
  
As the niece of the king and a shieldmaiden of Rohan, it was Eowyn's responsibility to organize the evacuation and packing of the castle. Organize and oversee. However, there was more to it than that. Eowyn needed something, needed a focus. A way to deal with everything that happened today. Her uncle returned to them on the same day that she lost her cousin and her brother. A day of joy, balanced with an equal amount of sorrow.  
  
Eowyn looked around the Hall, trying to decide what else should go with them. They were instructed to take only what they could carry. After all, they intended to return. But as she looked around, her eyes fell on something else. A trunk. Eowyn looked around, then knelt in front of the trunk. When she was a little girl, she liked to pretend that she was finding buried treasure. How many other children played games? Eowyn never really knew. She was a child of royalty. Her brother and cousins were her only companions.  
  
She opened the trunk and smiled with delight at something familiar, something she thought she might never see again. A sword. Eowyn withdrew the weapon from its protective cloth. It was so long since she handled a sword, a weapon of any kind. Eomer didn't want her to practice within sight of Grima Wormtongue. . .he feared that she would be viewed as a threat. As ever, he was trying to protect her, forever the older brother.  
  
But Grima was gone, as was Eomer, and there was no one left to protect Eowyn, save Eowyn herself. Yes, her uncle was back, but now, his mind was on protecting their people. The young shieldmaiden felt sure that her uncle was choosing the wrong path. However, if he would not listen to Gandalf the White, or his companions, he most assuredly would not listen to her. Even if she did live in this reality for the last few months.  
  
But such thoughts were unworthy, and Eowyn immediately banished them, chastising herself at the same time. Instead she focused on the familiar, comforting feel of the sword in her hand and the equally comforting familiarity of the motions. It was almost like a dance, she thought on more than one occasion. A beautiful, deadly dance.  
  
She held the sword aloft, eyes drinking in the beauty of the weapon she held. A weapon, and a friend. But few friends shone as this sword did, shone despite the years since it was last held, since it was last wielded. A quick glance around told her that no one was watching, and so, Eowyn gave into her desire, her need, to use this weapon once more. If only to go through the familiar, comforting steps. The sword was comfortable in her hands. Not an extension of herself, but not alien, either.  
  
Eowyn lost herself in the beautiful dance of the sword, a dance of the feet and a dance of the hands. So lost, in fact, she never even heard one of the newcomers approached. So as she turned, the shieldmaiden was startled to cross swords with the man who held her back earlier. . .the same man who stopped her uncle from killing Grima Wormtongue. Lord Aragorn. They stared at each other for a few moments, then Aragorn remarked quietly, his dark brows arching ever so slightly, "You've some skill with a blade."  
  
This man helped to save her uncle. . .helped to free him, if only by protecting Gandalf the White from disruptions. But Eowyn didn't know him. She didn't know if she could trust him. And worse yet, she wasn't sure if he was patronizing her or not. Feeling more than a little defensive at being caught like this, Eowyn whipped her sword around in an arc, as if to disarm him, but he raised both hands, lowering the long knife at the same time.  
  
She maintained her position a moment longer, holding the tip of her sword at his throat. Then she stalked away, angry with both him and with herself for being caught. As she knelt in front of the trunk once more, Eowyn answered bitterly, "Women of this country learned long ago that those without swords can still die upon them. I fear neither death nor pain." She grew even angrier with herself for saying that.  
  
Especially when Lord Aragorn asked in that quiet voice, "What do you fear, my lady?" Eowyn froze as she returned the sword to its rightful place. _What do you fear, my lady_? This morning, she feared Grima Wormtongue and being forever robbed of what remained of her family. This afternoon, she feared seeing her entire country destroyed, when her uncle and Gandalf the White found those poor children.  
  
But now? Now, Eowyn felt sure that Lord Aragorn was asking her what she feared for herself. She wasn't entirely sure why she answered. Perhaps she no longer had the energy to hold back. The day was one of joy and sorrow, despair and hope. She lost her brother only a few days earlier, she lost her cousin that day, and she saw her uncle returned to her. Now they faced an enemy who hated them for reasons Eowyn didn't fully understand. Just as she didn't understand fully why she answered the question with a quiet vehemence, looking up at Aragorn, "A cage. To stay behind bars until use or old age accept them, and all chance for valor has gone beyond recall or desire."

Lord Aragorn shook his head gently, almost sadly. He replied, "You are a daughter of kings; a shieldmaiden of Rohan. I do not think that will be your fate." He gently inclined his head to her as he sheathed his long knife, then departed from the Hall. Eowyn stared after him, turning the words over in her mind, but she didn't stay distracted for long. Two of the girls were discussing the strange young man who accompanied Gandalf the White.  
  
Eowyn gently broke that conversation up, then looked around, to make sure everything was packed. She really needed to check on their guest. As she made her way toward the room where he rested, she thought about his wife. He came from a different world than her own, but Eowyn felt a kinship with the woman who waited in her own world for her husband to return to her. For some reason, she felt like she had something in common with her.  
  
. . .  
  
He was dreaming. He knew he was dreaming, and he did not care. In his dreams, he was home again. In his dreams, his wife slept in his arms. She smelled of fresh soap and shampoo, and honeysuckle. She loved honeysuckle. When they were married but a few weeks, she told him about the honeysuckle that grew on her grandparents' farm. It was a smell that always reminded her of her grandparents, and probably would for the rest of her life.  
  
He could almost see the expression on her face as she told him about those days. Her eyes were at half-mast, and she wore a faint smile. As time passed, he would realize she always wore that smile when she spoke of her time with her grandparents. In many ways, they were more like her parents than the couple who actually gave her life. Ardeth understood that, because he actually met them while he was comatose.  
  
It was later that he learned that Annabelle and Thomas broke a few rules in contacting him while he was comatose. Not so much because they contacted him, but because he wasn't of their blood, and they never met him while they were alive. This was something he didn't altogether understand, but it seemed the Afterlife had rules of its own. From what Ardeth learned from his distant ancestress and namesake, who had a habit of showing up when she was needed most, there were specific rules that had to be followed.  
  
His ancestress didn't think Annabelle and Thomas were punished. And if they were punished, the punishment surely was not severe. After all, while they broke some rules, they didn't actually DO anything wrong. They did nothing to hurt anyone, and indeed, helped him through the coma. They were good people, and gave Ardeth a new understanding of his wife. Unfortunately, Lady Ardath added, rolling the dark hazel eyes that re- appeared every few generations in his family, understanding O'Connell still required work.  
  
Ardeth didn't bother to answer, because he and his wife were still working out the whole situation with O'Connell. This was before they were captives of Lock-nah and Nizam Toth, before Celia accepted once and for all that her fellow American could be trusted. Ardeth came to realize that he did not like being caught in the middle when O'Connell and Celia started arguing. And in those early months, that happened quite frequently.  
  
However, in this dream, he had none of that to worry about. She was asleep, peacefully dreaming. He could tell it was a peaceful dream, because of her smile. He knew all her smiles. He knew the smile that meant someone should beware. He knew the smile that meant she was happy. He knew the smile she wore when she wanted someone to think the opposite of what she was thinking about. He knew all of her expressions by heart.  
  
Celia shifted in his arms, and Ardeth shifted with her, then moaned as pain tore through him. He awoke with a jolt, the jolt sending a fresh spasm of pain through his already aching body. The king's niece, Eowyn, stood at his side, wearing a rather chagrined expression.  
  
"I am so terribly sorry. I was trying to make you more comfortable. I did not mean to wake you," the girl apologized, looking genuinely penitent. Ardeth adjusted his position until the pressure was off his ribs and chest once more, and gave her a tired smile. Eowyn continued, almost timidly, "Is there anything I can do for you? Perhaps some food or water? You have had little to eat, and your body took some terrible punishment."  
  
"I cannot yet eat, Princess Eowyn. But you may talk to me. . .tell me a little of your country. There are so many things I should know about this land, if I am to help you," Ardeth replied. It was only common sense, at least from a warrior's perspective, and from the perspective of a leader. Know the territory, know your allies, and above else, know your enemy. He knew very little of his enemy, even less of his allies, and that could result in death.  
  
"Please, just call me 'Eowyn.' And it would be my pleasure. We are called the Horse Lords. You should have met my brother or my cousin, Theodred. They were. . .my brother still is. . .an incomparable horseman. He has been banished from Rohan. Trying to protect me, as brothers do. Do you have sisters, my lord?" Eowyn asked in all innocence. Ardeth winced at the title, and hoped she didn't notice it.  
  
"If I am to call you 'Eowyn,' you must call me 'Ardeth.' I am no one's lord. I serve my people. And yes, I have two younger sisters. Acacia is ten months younger than I, and Aleta is twenty-six years of age. And you are correct. . .brothers do protect their sisters. Even when our sisters would prefer we did not," Ardeth observed. That won him a smile, and Ardeth continued, "Perhaps I will yet meet your brother. Gandalf has left Edoras in search of him."  
  
Eowyn bowed her head, replying, "I know. You believe my uncle is wrong, for evacuating and going to Helms Deep." Ardeth didn't know how to answer that question. Aywa, he did feel that way. He didn't like having his back to a wall. That left him no place to go. He was a warrior and a chieftain, and he knew the need for strategic withdrawals. He called one seven years earlier at Hamunaptra.  
  
Eowyn continued, "You do. I can see it in your eyes. What do you know about the enemy we face?" Ardeth grimaced. _Not enough. Not nearly enough_. Eowyn sighed, "I know that the orcs bear the hand print of Saruman the White. I know he has become our enemy, though I do not know why. And I have heard stories about Sauron."  
  
Sauron. The one pulling the strings of his puppet, Saruman. Ardeth remembered something Gandalf said, while Ardeth was half-conscious. Something about. . .Sauron shares power with no one. Saruman obvious thought he was Sauron's equal. Maybe it wouldn't be necessary for Ardeth to kill him. . .on the other hand, it wouldn't be nearly as satisfying if he stood back and let Saruman destroy himself.  
  
Eowyn bowed her head, adding, "I am sorry, you must have questions, and I cannot answer them. I do know some things. . .but not enough. Not the kinds of questions you must have, in a strange world. I know enough for myself. . .I know that I will fight and die to protect my people. I am certain you can understand that." Ardeth smiled at that. Yes. He could understand that very easily. He felt the same way.  
  
"Aywa. You must not apologize. In truth, while I have questions, I do not have the words with which to ask them," Ardeth admitted. That won him another smile, then Ardeth continued, "Would you like to know of my time?" Eowyn mouthed, 'his time?' The chieftain smiled faintly, explaining, "Yes. . .I come from this world, but from a time far distant. Based on what Aragorn and the others have told me, I come from thirty thousand years in the future."  
  
He saw the girl's eyes open wide, and Ardeth almost smiled. Almost. He didn't want Eowyn to think he was laughing at her. Eowyn breathed, "That. . .is a very long time. Yes. I wish to know about your time! I would like that very much!" The amazement was still in her eyes, along with questions and eagerness. Ardeth wondered briefly how old this girl was, guessing that she was about the same age as his sister Aleta.  
  
"There are many terrible and wonderful things in the world, in the time, that I know. In my time, it is possible to speak with someone a long distance immediately. There are actually several ways. The first is by a machine called a telephone. I wish I knew how to explain it. It is something with which I grew up, even in my part of the world. Even in the desert, telephones have become common," Ardeth replied.  
  
Eowyn's expression became even more entranced, though Ardeth believed it was not possible. He continued, "Another way is a machine, similar to a telephone. . .called a cell phone. It is a small phone that can fit nearly anywhere, and can be taken anywhere. A telephone is much larger. . .perhaps two or three times the size of a cell phone; and it usually stays in one building, if not in one room."  
  
"What are the other ways?" Eowyn asked, her eyes shining. She seemed not to care that Ardeth was providing so little information about how such things as cell phones and regular telephones worked. He was quite thankful for that, because he wasn't entirely sure he knew how to explain such things. In part because, it was never necessary for him to know these things.  
  
His younger brother was the one always fascinated with such gadgetry. It was Anatol who proposed the idea of setting up a website for the Med- jai. Ardeth was dead-set against it at first, fearing that it would bring unwanted attention to their people. However, Anatol explained that it would be a website for the Med-jai, only. A website for the Med-jai all over the world. They knew from Celia that the Legacy had something similar.  
  
When Anatol promised him that only the Med-jai would be able to view this website, Ardeth finally gave his consent. He still wasn't totally comfortable with the whole idea, but Anatol jubilantly reported that the idea was welcomed by Med-jai in other parts of the world, particularly the United States. Ardeth grimaced in spite of himself. Thirty years earlier, when Ardeth was just a toddler, his father sent five families to the United States to find the American Med-jai they now knew to be Rick O'Connell.  
  
The result? They now had some thirty American Med-jai families, and the numbers were growing. The times were changing, and the Med-jai had to change with them. There were times, though, when Ardeth wished he was living in a different time. Being chieftain to the twelve tribes was hard enough. . .but what about those living in other countries? How exactly did he take care of those people?  
  
A soft voice said, "It is time we left. . .will you continue your stories on the journey to Helms Deep?" Ardeth blinked and looked at Eowyn. He realized that he was silent for several moments, and nodded with a smile. The princess continued, smiling back, "That is actually why I came up here. It is time for us to leave. Shall I call Lord Aragorn to help you, or will I be sufficient?" Ardeth detected a slight hesitation when she spoke of Aragorn, but decided not to call her on it. In some ways, perhaps because they were close in age, she reminded him of Aleta.  
  
"Let us test my strength and learn for certain, hmm?" he asked. She slipped from her position and put her arms around him gingerly. Ardeth couldn't help himself. . .if it was a lovely young woman holding him, he wanted that lovely woman to be his wife. But Celia wasn't here, and he would be a fool to turn assistance of any kind away. Instead, he allowed himself to lean on her, though not too much. There was work to be done yet.  
  
. . .  
  
They looked like a stream of refugees leaving Edoras. . .carrying only what they could carry, as they were instructed. At the insistence of the King, Ardeth rode a horse. He didn't trust the young man, but Theoden could hardly deny Ardeth was badly injured. On the other hand, Theoden found it difficult to trust any of the newcomers, even if Gandalf did trust them. Just as Gandalf trusted the dark-haired young man.  
  
Perhaps there was a reason for that. It could hardly hurt to learn more about the boy, could it? Ardeth rode alongside Aragorn, the two men quietly talking. Ardeth stiffened ever so slightly as Theoden joined them, then dipped his head ever so slightly in acknowledgment. He started to hang back, as if to allow Theoden to speak with Aragorn. Obviously, Ardeth realized that Theoden didn't trust him, and he wasn't willing to trust Theoden, either.  
  
That thought didn't please the king. He said, striving for a pleasant, unthreatening tone, "I thought it time to learn more about our unexpected guest in this world. My niece tells me that you've been in this world, in this time, for a short time, young Ardeth. How are you finding it?" Well, that wasn't so bad. Although, judging from the irritation he saw in the man's face, perhaps he should refrain from mentioning his youth in the future.  
  
But to Theoden, he was young. . .Aragorn was young as well. Young and reckless. However, Theoden couldn't fault the newcomer's politeness, as he replied, "In some ways, it is very much like my own time. In other ways, it is very different. I come from the desert, King Theoden. The forests and the trees are alien to me, though I am certain my wife would find herself at home here. The land from whence she came has everything. . .deserts and forests, mountains and plains. And in her life, Celia has visited almost all of them."  
  
Such a country sounded immense to Theoden, and he said so. Ardeth answered with a small smile, "Indeed, it is immense. In some ways, Celia has seen and experienced more than I, and she is three years younger. We balance each other out, I believe. What I lack in experience in one area, she has. . .and what she lacks in education in another area, I have. What neither of us know, we learn together."  
  
Well, that gave Theoden an opening he wasn't expecting. The king of Rohan asked, "And how old are you, Ardeth?" That gained him another reaction he wasn't expecting. There was a pain in his young guest's eyes. Not anger. Not irritation at a possible rudeness on the part of the king. But pain. For the first time, Theoden wondered exactly what kind of position this young man carried in his homeland.  
  
"I am thirty-two. I became chieftain of my people, a small nation of warriors, when I was seventeen years old," Ardeth replied quietly. Theoden stared at him in shock. _Thirty-two. . .seventeen when he became a chieftain_? Theoden knew that among the Easterlings, the desert people, a chieftain was roughly equivalent to a king. This boy ruled a warrior nation for his entire adult life, and half of his years on this world.  
  
Then it was possible that he wasn't a foolish, reckless child. Theoden would have to think about that. Aragorn, perhaps sensing a pain that hovered just below the surface, "How long have you been married to Celia, Ardeth? You speak of her. . .the way in which you speak of her, it is almost like you have been married for many, many years. And yet, you say she comes from a different land from your own, from a land immense beyond imagination."  
  
"Aywa," Ardeth said, using that strange word which Theoden thought meant 'yes' in his language, "she does. We have been married two years, but those two years have been most. . ."  
  
"Interesting?" Aragorn asked, a smile appearing. Ardeth laughed, then grimaced, pressing a hand to his side. Aragorn grimaced in sympathy, and not for the first time, Theoden wondered at the connection between these two young men. At first, in spite of the tattoos adorning Ardeth's face, Theoden thought he might be Aragorn's cousin from the East. There was a slight resemblance between them, though Aragorn's eyes were considerably lighter.  
  
"Interesting would be an appropriate word, yes. Others would use 'traumatic.' It sometimes feels like we slide from one crisis to another, usually with no interim, no time to. . .to catch our breath," Ardeth answered. He paused, shifted in the saddle, then continued, "A perfect example would be the beginning of our marriage. In the six months between our first meeting and our honeymoon, we had two kidnappings, two near-death experiences, a wedding, plus several conflicts within my people and the transition of an ancient enemy to a new ally. In addition, some were not pleased that I was taking an American bride."  
  
Two kidnappings and two near-death experiences? 'Interesting' was a misnomer from Theoden's perspective. And there were some who were displeased with Ardeth's choice of a bride? Theoden asked, wanting to know more, "Why? Was she displeasing in some way? Unmannerly? Unfit to be a queen in some way?" Theoden ran through all the possibilities in his head. Ardeth was shaking his head.  
  
"La. If anything, Celia was too polite, tried too hard not to offend anyone. No, they objected to her, because she was not one of us by birth. They forgot that one of our greatest heroines was not Med-jai by birth," the young man replied. Theoden knew that he looked surprised, and Ardeth continued almost gently, "Is it so different, King Theoden, than the objections that might be raised to the marriage between an Elf and a human? Or a man of Rohan and a woman of Gondor?"  
  
He was painfully close to the truth there, but Theoden instead chose to ask, "You said a moment ago that your wife was too polite, tried too hard not to offend anyone. I take it something changed that?" Now Ardeth's smile was genuine, and, in all honesty, a little on the wicked side. Aragorn arched his eyebrows at the somewhat younger man, looking rather interested in this particular story.  
  
"You. . .could say that. One of the women, who is fortunately no longer among us, made two mistakes. First, she made the mistake of harming Celia's daughter Miranda. Secondly, she made the mistake of attacking Celia without provokation," Ardeth replied. There was a quiet pride in his voice as he continued, "Celia had her on her knees, with a knife at her throat, in a matter of seconds."  
  
Theoden wasn't entirely sure if he approved of this young woman, but it was hardly up to him. And Aragorn had the next question, asking, "You said that she was no longer among your people, Ardeth? Did you cast her out?" Now that was a very good question. Theoden looked at his youngest guest. . .and immediately wished he had not. Ardeth's smile was still there. . .but it was a different smile now. It was cold. In fact, it was almost frightening with the utter lack of warmth, of any kind.  
  
"Aywa. . .she tried to kill Celia and our son. We returned to our city, about three weeks before Celia was scheduled to give birth. It was a three day journey, and to spare Celia the trauma of riding a horse while eight months pregnant, she rode by camel instead. We have cars, but I do not entirely trust them in the desert," Ardeth explained. Theoden had no idea what a 'car' was, but he could not argue with the chieftain protecting his wife in any way we could.  
  
"Something happened," Aragorn stated and Ardeth nodded, fury blazing in his eyes. For the first time, Theoden realized that he really, truly, did not want this man as an enemy. Of any kind. Unlike Aragorn, Theoden learned from his niece, Ardeth had absolutely no qualms whatsoever with killing Grima. He, in fact, feared that allowing the sycophant to go free would only lead to more trouble. Grima knew too much. Entirely too much about Rohan.  
  
"Something happened. Sanure. . .she cut the cinch on Celia's camel. It was only a little cut, but as the days wore on, the cut grew larger. . .until it tore and the seat fell from the camel's back, taking Celia with it. It sent her into premature labor. If not for our enemy turned ally, she would have died, and our son with her," Ardeth related in a tight voice. Theoden closed his eyes. The young man continued, "We did not know at first what Sanure did. . .until her niece told us. Her niece, you see, was nursed through an illness by my wife."  
  
"You cast her out," Theoden stated baldly, opening his eyes once more. He looked at the young king, saying, "You cast out that serpent of a woman. Insults to your wife you could tolerate, but when she tried to kill your queen and your son. . .that was something you could not and would not tolerate." The young man shook his head grimly, his expression promising that there was far more to this awful tale.  
  
"La. My concern was with my wife and son. I promised myself that I would deal with Sanure once I was satisfied that Celia and Andreas would be all right. And that is what I did. No one told me that I was wrong. No one told me that my first priority should be punishing Sanure. But my mother and sisters decided that mere banishment wasn't enough. And so, in the hours before she was to appear before me for her sentencing, they beat her," Ardeth explained.  
  
Well. . .perhaps that shouldn't have been such a surprise. Ardeth did come from a nation of warriors. It appeared that the women were warriors, as well as the men. Something Theoden found difficult to comprehend, despite his niece's skill with a sword. Ardeth continued, "I did not punish them. They love Celia, you see. My mother had her doubts about her in the beginning, but my mother has had doubts about every spouse taken by her children. She is a mother first, and she wanted to make sure that her children married someone worthy of them."  
  
That was something Theoden could understand. Didn't he want the same thing for Eowyn? Hadn't he wanted the same thing for Theodred? And didn't he still want the same thing for Eomer? The thought of his nephew caused a pang in Theoden's heart, for it reminded him that he betrayed Eomer, a betrayal made all the more painful by Theoden's knowledge that his nephew remained loyal to him. He didn't deserve that loyalty. Theoden knew that. But if this world was about deserving, Eomer would not still be loyal to him, Grima Wormtongue would now be dead, and his lovely niece at least affianced to a man worthy of her.  
  
And it seemed that there was still more to this tale, for Ardeth added, "I cast her out, and she ran to her father, who was also a traitor. He used her. . .and then he killed her. We found her body, her face still frozen in horror and despair, her hands still clutched around the knife he had driven into her body. I saw her. . .and could feel nothing. Only relief that she could never hurt my wife or children again."  
  
Compassion flooded through the older king, and he replied quietly, "It is a natural reaction, Ardeth. This woman did terrible things. She betrayed your trust, and the trust of your people, just as surely as if she attacked your wife physically while she was pregnant. That does not make you a monster. . .only a protective husband. You love her. She loves you. And this woman threatened that."  
  
Again, there was that hollow laugh. Ardeth replied, "It was not the first time she did such a terrible thing. When she was a teenager, almost twenty years ago, she almost ran over a pregnant woman in our village, because Anissa had the husband she wanted. Anissa lost her baby. My brother, who was chieftain at the time, did not have the ability to cast her out. . .so he did the next best thing. In our village, among our people, marriages are chosen by the young people. My brother gave the right to choose Sanure's husband to Anissa's husband."  
  
Theoden's blood ran cold. While he didn't understand the significance of allowing the injured party to choose the husband of the villainess, he did understand one thing. Ardeth's brother could have just as easily condemned her to death. He asked, "And did this Sanure realize the mercy which your brother was showing her? He could have had her killed, or worse, for what she did."  
  
Ardeth's smile lacked any warmth as he replied, "She did not. He could have taken her life. . .but instead, the husband of Anissa gave Sanure to a man who could not sire children. A death in and of itself. However. . .they still had children. And he refused to condemn her as an adulteress. Perhaps because her mother was a member of the Council. Perhaps. . .for many reasons, but neither Sanure nor Tamar appreciated that my brother _was_ merciful."  
  
"And for your brother's mercy, your wife and son suffered," Theoden said quietly, and Ardeth inclined his head in acknowledgment. This explained why Ardeth opposed the release of Grima Wormtongue. The man understood that mercy and compassion was a double-edged sword. Theoden had no doubt that if the young man had the energy to do so at the time, he would have killed the betrayer himself. He understood their unexpected guest a little better now.  
  
To say that he trusted him. . .that was something else entirely. It was nothing personal on Theoden's part. It truly wasn't. But he knew Ardeth for barely more than a day. Was it fair, was it right, to simply give his trust to a man, when it took months, nay, years, for others to win that same trust? It was not. But while Ardeth rode in his company, Theoden would not raise his hand against him. . .and he would fight at his side. That was all he could offer.  
  
Aragorn had fallen silent during the course of the story, but Theoden could tell the other man was listening intently to every word that was spoken.  
  
The king wasn't entirely certain what to make of Gandalf's reckless young associate, and Aragorn came from his own world. The other man said now, "And that is why you disapprove of Grima Wormtongue being permitted to escape." Ardeth shrugged, as if his opinion was of no interest to anyone there. Theoden wouldn't say that his opinion was of no interest, but as he told Aragorn. . .Theoden ruled Rohan. He made the final decision.  
  
Something to which Ardeth alluded, though he was not present during that meeting. He was asleep or unconscious, one of the two. Another reason for him to dislike the young man. He was wounded and survived. Theoden's son was also wounded, but he died. Theoden immediately chastised himself for thinking such a thing, but he couldn't help himself. The grief was still too fresh. His son was gone, lost to him forever. How dare this young man still be alive, when his wound was almost as bad as Theodred's own wounds!  
  
"My opinion is of no consequence. I have concerns about this Grima Wormtongue, yes. But yours is not my time nor is it my place. It is not my place to judge," Ardeth replied, his voice showing some strain when speaking of Rohan. . .nay, this entire world. . .as not being his own. Theoden tried to see things through his eyes. A young man, pulled back in time, by Saruman's sorcery, away from his home and his family, away from his people.  
  
What was this like for him, this young chieftain from the future? Theoden didn't like the way his thoughts were heading, and he struggled against the compassion that surged through his soul. It was too soon after Grima, and this young man, no matter how honorable, was still a stranger to him. For all he knew, Saruman could be using Ardeth, the way he used Theoden. That was something he simply was not prepared to allow. It wasn't that Theoden thought Ardeth would betray them deliberately.  
  
But Theoden knew all too well about betraying one's family, one's people, against his will. He only threw off Saruman's spell with Gandalf's aid, but the stink of that violation remained with him, and likely would continue for some time. Theoden would not trust so easily in the future. He struggled to find something to say, but was distracted from his meaningless observations by laughter he had not heard in some time.  
  
The dwarf. . .Gimli, son of Gloin. . .was even more reckless than Aragorn, from Theoden's point of view. However, Theoden also could not argue that he made Eowyn laugh. The dwarf was explaining about the differences between dwarf men and dwarf women. Or rather, the lack thereof. Aragorn smiled mischievously, saying very softly as Eowyn looked over her shoulder at him, "It's the beards." And indicated his own. Eowyn's eyes lit up with laughter all over again, then turned her attention back to Gimli. . .not a moment too soon.  
  
The dwarf lost control of his horse and tumbled from the saddle. Eowyn ran lightly over to the fallen Gimli, who was sputtering, "That was deliberate, that was deliberate. . .nobody panic!" Eowyn began laughing as she helped the dwarf sit up and started brushing him off. She looked over her shoulder at Theoden and Aragorn. . .and smiled. Theoden saw the way she was looking at Aragorn. Theoden swallowed very hard, recognizing that expression. How could he not? _Oh, sweet, sweet Eowyn_!  
  
Eowyn was his niece. . .but she was also as dear to him as any daughter could be. And Theoden felt a little piece of his heart break, because Eowyn was no longer simply his and Eomer's. If Eomer could bring himself to forgive Theoden. There were no such guarantees in life. There were no guarantees of anything, save death. And looking at his beautiful young niece right now, Theoden died a little death. Eowyn was falling in love. And he had no idea how the exiled king of Gondor felt about his niece.  
  
. . .  
  
As the caravan heading for Helms Deep prepared to stop for the night, the sun was rising over the city of Tiri, Egypt. At the request of the Med- jai queen, Rick O'Connell and his family spent the night at her home. Celia offered the room she and Ardeth shared, but Rick turned her down. That was just a little too. . .weird for him. Instead, he slept in a recliner and Evy slept on the sofa, while Alex slept on the floor.  
  
A special little bed was made for Nefertiri on the floor as well. She was not quite two years old. . .not big enough for a 'big girl' bed, and not young enough for the 'baby' crib. Evy and Celia compromised with the little girl. . .the two mothers promised to build a special 'Nef' bed. Rick allowed the corners of his mouth to quirk. Nef and her two mothers. It was cute in the beginning, Nef's habit of calling Celia 'Mama'. . .then somewhat irritating.  
  
Evy took pity on him and clued him in. Nefertiri, she explained, was the reincarnation of Rameses and Ardath's daughter Miriam. The child who died before she had a chance to live. . .thanks to Khaldun. That confused Rick. Miriam. . .the un-named baby daughter whom Ardath miscarried when she was five months pregnant? But. . .she was never even born. Evy agreed. . .however, her soul was eventually reborn as their daughter.  
  
There was a part of Nefertiri that remembered that long ago bond. Rick tried to deny it. He always did. Nefertiri was only two years old, and Miriam died three thousand years earlier. However. . .a visit from Anck-su-namun quickly straightened him out. Rick supposed he got off lucky. She could have sent Lady Ardath. Rick barely survived the last encounter with the long-dead concubine. He didn't think he would be that lucky this time.  
  
And Alex was now ten years old. His little boy was growing up. So fast. Too fast. Rick heard him and Ardeth's nephew Darius talking about girls the other day. They were ten years old, hardly more than babies. . .they were too young to talk about falling in love! At ten. . .all right, so that wasn't such a hot idea. At ten, he was scrambling to survive. He didn't want that for Alex. He didn't want that for either of his children. And yeah, he now knew that Jonathan was Alex's birth father. . .but Rick raised Alex. Rick was his father, in all the ways that counted.  
  
Shuffling noises drew Rick's attention, and in spite of himself, he stiffened. Call him paranoid, but he had been through too much over the last seven years not to be a little freaked out. He half-expected to see a passel of mummies come through the living room. No mummies. Just a very tired-looking mommy, wife, and queen. Celia smiled at him wearily, saying, "I'm just about to fix something to eat. Come with?"  
  
Rick nodded and followed her into the kitchen. He sat at the table, and Celia continued, as if this was a common thing, "Miranda slept with me last night. She had a nightmare around nine pm, and crawled into bed with me. I haven't told her a lot. . .just that her papa was missing, and we were trying to find out what we could about the bad man who took him." She looked up at him with a haunted expression, asking, "How exactly do I explain something like this to a little girl, Rick?"  
  
Rick released a breath he didn't realize he was holding. There were times when it was easy for him to forget that Celia's husband was just a flesh and blood human. There were times when it was equally easy to forget that about Celia herself. Until he saw her as he was seeing her now, as a tired and haunted young wife and mother, who couldn't figure out a way to tell her six year old daughter why Papa was gone.  
  
"I dunno, kid," he answered honestly, and ignored the poisonous glance she shot in his direction. She was only four years younger than he was. . .but it helped him to maintain his composure. If he looked at her as a kid sister. . .a somewhat annoying kid sister who helped her husband to bail Rick's family out of trouble. . .it helped him keep it together. He continued, thinking about the day before, "Thanks for not reaming my ass."  
  
"Wasn't your fault. You couldn't do anything about it. This Saruman, based on what I learned from you, from Anck, from Evy, and from Imhotep. . .we're talking about a creep who was worse than Khaldun, Imhotep, and the Scorpion King put together. Far more powerful, most assuredly, and even more evil. There was nothing you could have done, Rick. Let it go," Celia advised as she handed him a glass of orange juice.  
  
Rick drank down the contents, then put the glass down, saying, "Ain't that easy, Cele. I made a promise two years ago. This creep made me break my promise." Celia sighed as she sat down next to him. He regarded her with a combination of affection, irritation, and compassion. No one would ever believe she was the Med-jai queen. She wore a tattered old terry cloth bathrobe, and Rick wondered how she stood it in the heat.  
  
Her dark hair was tousled, and there were circles under her eyes. Even more damning, Rick could see the evidence of tears on her face. She cried herself to sleep the previous night, he was willing to bet, and felt a wrenching in his chest. He knew how that felt. Too many times after Ahm Shere, he woke up sobbing. And only holding his wife's warm and breathing body comforted him. Best not to go there. Two years wasn't nearly enough time for that particular wound to heal, even though he got Evy back. Rick said to distract himself, "You know, after we got out of that cave, I half-expected Lady Ardath to show up and kick my ass for laying a hand on her child. That's how she refers to him. . .to Ardeth, I mean."  
  
A tired smile lit Celia's face as she replied, "I know. She's part of me, Rick. I remember facing Khaldun in Hamunaptra, the two of us sharing a body. I could feel her rage when she 'thought' about her child. I thought she meant her son, and her daughter, at first. Then I realized she meant Ardeth. . .our Ardeth. And she wasn't angry with you. Trust me on that. She wasn't angry with you, or with Evy. Only Saruman."  
  
"Well, that's a relief. She may be a ghost, and she may be small, but that lady ain't somebody you want as an enemy," Rick replied, and that smile brightened a little. For the first time since Ardeth was taken, he saw a mischievous gleam in Celia's eyes. A few moments earlier, she spoke about joining forces with Lady Ardath in Hamunaptra, to defeat Khaldun. Their present conversation reminded Rick of another event, which occurred just before then.  
  
He was judging Celia because she wasn't in hysterics over Miranda's kidnapping. Because she didn't fall apart, the way he and Evy did immediately after Alex was kidnapped from the double-decker bus after their escape from the British Museum. And he judged Ardeth for helping her stay focused. Now here he was, two years later, doing the exact same thing. He understood now. It wasn't a matter of love. It was just the way some people coped.  
  
And, it was part of the Legacy. As the daughter of a precept, Celia and her younger brother Jason were often targeted by the enemies of the Legacy. It was Celia's firm belief that her older brother Galen was initially kidnapped by one of those enemies. Galen remembered little of that time. There was a big blank spot where those two years were supposed to be. . .and he would probably never get his memories back.  
  
Celia, because she wasn't particularly important or interesting to the Legacy itself, rarely had to worry about incursions by their enemies. She wasn't particularly special (read: psychic). Nor was her daughter. But she saw what happened to those who were either psychic, or their children had a variation of the Sight. A built-in defense mechanism. Focus on dealing with the situation, and try not to think about your child being hungry or frightened or in danger.  
  
"Where did you go?" Celia asked, distracting Rick again. He looked at her, blinking when he realized she was on her feet again. Celia said with a half-smile, "I have coffee ready, if you want it." Rick nodded, trying to figure out when he lost track of the conversation. Celia provided the answer for him, saying, "I never figured you for the zone out type, much less for nearly five minutes, much less with coffee steaming. You like surprising me, O'Connell."  
  
"Coming from you, that's funny, Celia," Rick answered wryly. She smiled and poured coffee into his mug. He recognized the mugs, of course. They were a wedding anniversary from Evy, picked up when the O'Connell family went to Ireland. Himself and Herself. Celia laughed over the mugs for a good ten minutes, then spent the next fifteen minutes trying to explain the joke to her husband.  
  
Again, Celia's mischievous smile flashed, as she replied, "Hey, I'm not nearly as good at surprising you as Anck is. Just out of curiosity, have you given up on trying to predict what she'll do next?" Rick glared at the young woman, without any real heat.  
  
"Predicting our ghost in residence? Hey, I gave that up when she fell on her knees, begging Seti's forgiveness if he would heal Ardeth," he retorted, then immediately wished he kept his mouth shut. The last thing Celia needed right now was another reminder of those awful days. The smile faltered somewhat, and Rick said, shaking his head, "I'm sorry, Celia, you didn't need a reminder of that. I wasn't thinking."  
  
"No need to apologize," Celia replied quietly, "and you didn't remind me. It's always there, Rick. Like. . .I don't even know how to describe it. But the most I can hope for is. . .is that it goes away and hides for a little while. I remember what those monsters in human flesh did to my husband. I remember every time I see one of his scars. But I also remember what Anck did for my husband. . .just as I remember that you and Imhotep joined forces with your worst enemy to rescue Ardeth. I won't forget that."  
  
Rick was more than a little uncomfortable with this topic of conversation, and he mumbled, "You know, I almost prefer the way it was before. When you and I used to argue. I mean, really argue, not banter the way we do now. That was easier." Much to his surprise, Celia didn't seem angry. If anything, really, she looked amused. And that was enough to frighten Rick all over again.  
  
"Yup, it's easier. . .but this is better. This way, we don't have Evy and Ardeth worrying about us, as if we were a pair of children," Celia replied. Rick could hardly argue with that. In fact, it was hard to argue with this woman about much of anything. Not because she was always right, but because it just wasn't worth it. They bantered and teased each other, but any desire to really argue with her died two years earlier.  
  
It was a subject that remained painful to them both. Rick couldn't imagine what she went through in the three days before he and Imhotep arrived with Anck-su-namun and Beni. Five months pregnant, and having to keep silent while her husband was tortured and beaten. Having to keep silent to protect herself, her husband, and her unborn child. There were times when Rick almost wished someone would bring back Lock-nah again. Almost.  
  
He hated to admit this under any circumstances, but he actually envied Imhotep. The asshole demanded the right to kill Lock-nah himself. Because of what he saw in Ardeth's mind while he was healing him at Hamunaptra. . .what Lock-nah and Nizam Toth did to Ardeth when he was their seventeen year old captive. Evil things, Rick knew, because he saw the same things in Ardeth's mind. The will of Horus and Isis, and Rick carried those images in his mind forever.  
  
Those three days, and their climax, continued their influence to this very day. Perhaps he should have expected it, knowing what he did of his own previous life. Talk about far-reaching consequences, though. Rick shook his head, still trying to wrap his mind around the revelations over the last two years. Just when he became used to one revelation about his own past, boom, here came another. And surprise, surprise. . .his fate was always woven with the fates of Ardeth, Evy, Imhotep, Celia, and Anck-su-namun. Three thousand years earlier, they were part of the magic circle. Three thousand years ago, Rameses. . .Ardeth. . .was Imhotep's best friend.  
  
Rick would have never admitted it to anyone, much less his wife, but he actually felt a little sorry for Imhotep when he stopped and thought about it. His best friend was reborn as his worst enemy, as a Med-jai. Sure, Rick and Ardeth didn't get off to such a great start, but time revealed the truth. They were friends. . .they were brothers, in more ways than one. Rick had an advantage Imhotep didn't.  
  
And here again, Rick couldn't believe he was actually sympathizing with the asshole. But it was true. Imhotep hated Ardeth in the beginning. As time passed, the hatred was replaced by respect. . .then affection. . .then finally a fierce protectiveness that took Rick's breath away. He didn't like admitting that Imhotep had any good in him. Imhotep put him and his family through hell. But on that scorched desert sand, two years earlier, Rick O'Connell was forced to finally bow to the inevitable.  
  
Imhotep cared just as much for Ardeth as Rick did. Perhaps even more, though Rick would never believe that. He could admit that Imhotep cared as much for Ardeth as he did, but more? Nah. Too much history, and not the kind shared by Rick and Ardeth. For all the ancient affection that Imhotep held for Rameses, and for all the new respect he had for Ardeth, the first thing Imhotep still saw when he looked at Ardeth wasn't Rameses. . .it was his tattoos.  
  
"It's okay, Rick, you can talk about that. I won't fall apart," Celia said quietly, and Rick looked up at her, feeling more than a little guilty. She continued, as if unaware of his reaction, "That time changed us all, I think. Most people don't know. . .well, Altair, Anatol, and the girls know, because they're family. Garai knows because he's Garai. But I don't think Ardeth was comfortable for the next three months if I was out of his sight. And I was the same way."  
  
Oh yeah, Rick had a great big _amen_ for _that_. He was the same way after Ahm Shere. He couldn't bear to let Evy, or Alex, out of his sight for more than a few minutes. Serious separation anxiety, and then some. He told her softly, "I guess I'm so used to protecting Evy from that. . .I just got into that habit. There were times, Cele, in those three days while we were looking for you guys. . .there were times when I didn't think the three of us would make it. I was afraid we would kill each other."  
  
He was favored with an impish grin, and the man continued, "The only thing that saved us, and by extension, the three of you, was Anck-su-namun. You have no idea how weird it is, to feel beholden to someone you have reason to hate. But she kept us from killing each other. . .she kept us sane. . .and she kept us in line. If the three of us started squabbling, which happened at least every few miles. . .she butted right in."  
  
Celia said nothing, allowing Rick to get it out. And he desperately needed that purging. Telling Evy was out of the question, because she worried about Ardeth so much. Celia worried, too, but this was distracting her from the current situation. Rick went on, "Save it for Lock-nah and Nizam Toth, she told us. And gave us a little bit in the way of detail. Just enough to know that those two bastards were torturing Ardeth. I don't know why Beni got so bent out of shape. . .much as I detest Imhotep, I can admit that he did care about Ardeth, and he does now as well. But Beni?"  
  
Rick shook his head, not understanding at all. Celia replied softly, "Same reason as the two of you. Anck later told me. . .she told Beni about what Lock-nah did to Ardeth. . .what he did to Acacia. Beni may be a weasel, but he has certain limits, and Lock-nah passed those limits. Being a little guy, he knows all about being picked on and being bullied. What Lock-nah did to Ardeth enraged him."  
  
"And then he fell in love with Acacia himself," Rick completed, and Celia nodded. It was just a little surreal to him, even after the last two years. Sitting in this woman's kitchen, talking about something that forever changed him. They clashed quite often in the early months of her marriage to Ardeth, for the simple fact that they were so much alike. Celia was just as protective of Ardeth as Rick was of Evy.  
  
For that reason, they often butted heads. That was one thing that made this so surreal. The other thing. . .Beni was back from the dead. Not only was he back from the dead, but he was living among the Med-jai and married to the chieftain's sister. Rather happily, from what Rick heard. He couldn't believe it. Beni, that little weasel. . . happily married to a beautiful, classy lady like Acacia.  
  
And yet. . .it was true. Not only was he married to Acacia, but he was devoted to her. He worshipped her, would kill for her without hesitation. And even more scary, at least to Rick, was how Acacia's two children adored Beni. Darius and Damara (continuing in the Bey tradition of all children having their name starting with the same letter) thought Beni was wonderful. Thought he was _funny_, for crying out loud!  
  
Then, of course, there was Imhotep. Probably the biggest surprise of all during the last few years. Rick understood why things stabilized with Celia. While they sometimes got on each other's nerves, the pair understood each other, and there was some respect. Imhotep. . .he and Rick would never be friends, and likely, they would never trust each other. And yet, Imhotep was living among the Med-jai, an unofficial babysitter for Miranda and Andreas, and a silent protector to Celia.  
  
He protected them both. Or maybe, more appropriately, he protected all four of them. Rick said softly, "There was a lot you didn't see, even after we arrived in the camp. Things none of us thought you should see." Celia looked up, surprised by this comment, and Rick went on, "You were five months pregnant, in shock from what you saw happen to Ardeth, and outright exhausted. You didn't need to see all of it. I've never seen anyone fight like that. . .not even when Imhotep and I went mano a mano in Ahm Shere did he fight like this. But Imhotep. . .it was like he was possessed."  
  
At the time, Rick actually wondered about that. Anck, however, told him that she saw Imhotep like that in the past, before everything exploded in their faces. He fought like that when Khaldun insulted Anck-su-namun, something done at risk of his own life. No. . .no, Imhotep wasn't possessed, and he wasn't possessed by Lady Ardath or Rameses. While Rick wouldn't trust her either, he also knew in this case, she wasn't lying. She would have told him if either of those two joined them.  
  
"Lock-nah couldn't understand why Imhotep was so angry. After all, Ardeth Bey was the enemy, and you carried the Med-jai spawn in your body. Anck made a comment about how Lock-nah worshipped Imhotep, but had no understanding of him whatsoever. Imhotep didn't just kick his ass, he totally humiliated him. I won't tell you what all he did to him. . .we'll just say that before Imhotep decapitated him, Lock-nah regretted ever touching any of the Bey family," Rick explained.  
  
Celia's mouth twisted, and she replied, "That much, Anck told me. You weren't the only ones who decided I didn't need to see what was going on. Besides, I was more concerned with Ardeth at that point. I didn't play soccer with Lock-nah's head until later." Rick winced at the memory. Definitely not an image he needed in his mind, even now. Celia was silent, then said, "Is it helping you? Talking about this. . .does it help with not thinking about whatever danger he might be in now?"  
  
"Does it help? Yeah. It does. Does it distract me from wondering what the hell is going on, and if there's anything we can do for Ardeth? Not even a little bit. We don't have Seti here this time," Rick replied. Celia made a face, and Rick figured that she was still shaken from that. Hell, he was still shaken by that. Even after all these millennia, there was still enough of Terumun left in him to be awed by the pharaoh.  
  
"That is not true," a voice said, startling them both. Celia almost dropped her own glass, and Rick grabbed for her wrist. Anck looked at them, obviously confused, and said, "I did not mean to startle you. But it is true. We do have Seti. He has gone to this other place, this place with Saruman. He has gone there, to watch over Ardeth. Even if our brother does not know it, he will not be alone."  
  
It wasn't Rick. It wasn't Jonathan. Hell, it wasn't even Imhotep. But there was someone in this other place, who would be watching Ardeth's back. Someone watching over him, someone who would do whatever he could to protect him. Rick looked at Celia. She didn't look as haunted as she did when she first came downstairs. Still worried, of course. But there was hope in her eyes now. Rick removed the glass from her hand and placed it on the table, then slipped his fingers around hers.  
  
"If Seti is with him," Rick said quietly, "then he'll be all right. Seti didn't save him two years ago, just to watch him die. If there's a way to protect him, Seti will find it. Remember. . .that's his kid we're talking about. I know how far I would go for Alex, and for Nefertiri. Seti ain't no different in that respect." Anck inclined her head in agreement, a faint smile appearing. Rick squeezed Celia's hand, then said, "Let me help you with breakfast. . .I'm actually pretty good around the kitchen." That made her laugh, as it was meant to, and Rick quietly promised his missing friend that he would take care of Celia, in any way he could, until they found a way to bring Ardeth home. This was one promise he had no intention of breaking.


	10. The Wolves of Isengard

Yea! Not such a long wait this time! And as promised, we reach the warg attack in this one. Also, a quick author's note: Nizam Toth, oft-mentioned in this pages and others, was a character featured in the short-lived _Mummy_ cartoon. . .Ardeth's main nemesis, aka The Dark Med-jai. He was voiced by Michael T Weiss (who did a kick-butt job), and damn if he didn't look just like his VA.  
  
Reviews:  
  
Sailor Elf: Glad you like it. . .I've been told in the past that I'm too hard on myself. Which is why instead of changing things constantly, if I can't find any specific reason for my discomfort, I leave a chapter alone. Oh, I'll change misspellings or grammatical boo-boos as I find them (which happen, especially when I'm tired). . .but unless something screams at me to be changed, I leave it alone.  
  
Mommints: Why, thank you dear! I know I've said it before, but you were one of the first Mummyverse writers I started reading. . .while I've enjoyed them all, I think my all-time favorite is '_The Wolf, the Witch, and the Warrior_.' (I think I have that in the right order, but if I don't, I do apologize). Eowyn is a fascinating character to me, and I can't resist looking at things through her eyes. . .or, at the very least, trying to look through her eyes. No Rick, Evy, or Celia in this chapter, though I am glad they seem real. If they seem real, it means I've succeeded. (Shut up, Rick, or I'll do to you what I did in '_What Might Have Been'_)  
  
Terreis: That's alright, hon, I quite understand. I did, indeed, get your birthday card. . .thank you! Just what every woman needs when she turns thirty-four. . .a picture of Oded Fehr, no matter what character! Would you believe I've never seen the DVD of the _Two Towers_? In truth, the dancing idea came up because it's something that's occurred to me while I was watching that scene, and any time I watch the first real fight scene in '_The Mummy Returns_.' And yes, Rick and Celia were nice to each other! They can be nice to each other. . .besides, Celia doesn't have the energy to harass Rick. And you're right. . .as much as possible, Pharaoh won't let anything happen to Ardeth.  
  
Belphegor: First, I'm trusting you to let me know if I misspelled what I understood as 'Landsrath.' I keep trying to buy the trilogy, but can never find them when I'm shopping. I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter so much. I'm not an Eowyn/Aragorn shipper either, but in some ways, Eowyn reminds me of a young girl with her first crush. I think you have a point with her envy of Aragorn, something I touch on in this chapter. She feels helpless to protect her country and her people, her family. Theoden. . .you know, for all intents and purposes, Theoden was violated by Saruman and Grima. He's in no hurry to trust any strangers, not even ones whom Gandalf trusts. Gimli's suspicion of Ardeth is fading away, but he didn't accept Ardeth right away, either, and he wasn't violated in the way Theoden was. I've included a part with Seti (and Ardeth's father) to clear up any confusion that may linger regarding Seti and his decision to watch over Ardeth.  
  
Okay, on with the story!  
  
Part Nine  
  
With a whisper of a thought, Pharaoh Seti the First materialized in the distant past where his son's reincarnation was sent. This was a past distant even to Pharaoh. However, even with that handicap, it took him no time at all to find Ardeth. A man dressed entirely in black, with unusual facial tattoos, would stand out. And he **did**. Pharaoh quickly discovered that the refugees were making camp for the night. There were no tents set up. . .only bedrolls and fires. Seti was not in the least bit surprised to find the young Med-jai king ignoring his injuries to aid the people of Rohan with the defense of their camp and the calming of their children.  
  
Seti shook his head in affectionate disbelief, telling his companion, "Even now, so far from home, the boy is still the chieftain. You did an excellent job of raising him, Grandson." He looked away from Ardeth long enough to beam at the reincarnation of his grandson, Suleiman Bey. Contrary to what the foolish Elders of the Med-jai believed, there actually was a prophecy about the return of Lady Ardath to her adoptive people.  
  
Like most prophecies, it was in vague terms, so that it could be interpreted in any way one could see fit. . .save for one line. '_When the son is reborn as the father, then the daughter from a land far away shall return to her people._' Suleiman Bey was the reincarnation of his ancestor, Ardeth Bey, and therefore, he was the reincarnation of Seti's grandson. The son, Ardeth, was reborn as the father. Ardeth to Suleiman, and Rameses to Ardeth.  
  
Seti looked at the reincarnation of his grandson once more, smiling. His grandson, who was only five years old when Seti died. His grandson was five, and his daughter hardly more than a child herself. Nefertiri. Pharaoh closed his eyes, and tried not to think of his daughter, of his beloved 'Tiri. Instead, he focused on his descendents. This man at his side was a far cry indeed from the mischievous five year old boy who hurtled through the halls of the palace.  
  
Ahh, Seti loved that little boy! He had Rameses' features, and his mother's curls, her eyes, her smile. When he was around Rameses, he made the grieving prince smile. Just like his mother. Ardath made him smile, and for that reason alone, Seti adored her. Besides, he was a soldier, and the son of a soldier, and he appreciated courage. Particularly the quiet courage displayed by Ardath when she protected a Med-jai child from his nephew's wrath.  
  
Suleiman replied, "I can only take some credit for Ardeth, Grandfather. My Altair did most of the raising, especially after I died. But I am proud of him. . .more proud than I can tell you." Suleiman paused, almost hesitating, then added, "And I am proud of you, Grandfather. . .it took a great deal of love and a great deal of courage to. . ." Again, he faltered.  
  
But he had no need to continue. Seti understood, and answered quietly, "I love him as well. When he was born. . .do you remember that? Do you remember pacing outside the tent, while Altair struggled to bring him into the world? Or how every time she screamed, it took three men to keep you from going to her? Of course you do. I remember as well, because I was there. I was guiding him out, I was giving my strength to him as he was born."  
  
He looked at his grandson more fully, adding, "Do you really think that when Ardeth needed me most, I would abandon him? I would have never allowed him to die. This. . .it just gave me a chance to put a three-thousand-year-old wrong to rights. With your mother, for not permitting your father to wed her, and with Anck-su-namun."  
  
"You were no worse than anyone else of that time, Grandfather. And you protected her as best you could," Suleiman pointed out. Seti inclined his head with a sigh. And yet, neither of those facts comforted him. His grandson paused, then continued, "I noticed, too, that you said nothing about making things right with the. . .with Imhotep." In spite of himself, Seti smiled. His grandson still struggled with calling Imhotep by name.  
  
"No," he agreed, "because I have no regrets where Imhotep is concerned. No, I was no different than any other ruler of that time. Perhaps a trifle more arrogant, because of the land I ruled. But at the same time. . .I can see now, after all these centuries, how much I hurt Anck-su-namun. I do not know if you will believe this, my grandson, but I loved her. Oh, I know what people say. . .I was an old man wanting a young and beautiful bride."  
  
"You were also a lonely old man. Grandfather, I do not condemn you. . . nor do I condone what you did. But you did not deserve to die like that. No one does. Any more than Imhotep deserved the hom-dai. Many times, I have seen into my son's heart, and known that he feels the same way. When Hamadi Bey pronounced the hom-dai, he did not just curse Imhotep. He cursed his descendents as well. And for that, I cannot forgive him," Suleiman said.  
  
"Nor can I, my grandson," Seti answered softly, "nor can I." He was silent for several moments, staring at his descendent, at the reincarnation of his son. Rameses and Nefertiri. He loved them both so much. If he had regrets where his son, Ardath, and Anck-su-namun were involved, then he had even more regrets where his daughter, his little 'Tiri, was concerned. She saw him die. It was his job to protect her and prepare her, and she watched him die.  
  
He heard her cry out to the Med-jai as he crumpled to the ground. He heard her voice, as if from far away. He heard her screaming. And in those moments when Seti finally released his hold on life, two amazing things happened. First, Nefertiri lunged over the balcony, as if trying to reach him before he died. . .only to be dragged back from certain death by the strong arms of her older brother. Rameses pulled her back and held her as the Med-jai swarmed into the room.  
  
The other amazing thing. . .as his ka detached itself from his body, he was met by his other beloved daughter, Ardath. This surprised him, for he believed that Anpu or Asu would meet him. He found, however, that he preferred this greeter. Ardath held out a hand, saying softly, '_Come, father. . .it is time for Ma'at to weigh your heart.'  
_  
He was not cast to Ammit, for what he did to Anck-su-namun, but nor was he permitted to take his place in the Afterlife. They wronged each other, and neither could rest in peace until amends were made. What neither realized was that before they could make amends, to each other, something else had to happen. Rameses had to forgive himself, and accept Ardath's love once more. So strange. . .how everything kept coming back to Rameses and Ardath.  
  
Seti asked softly, "When did you realize that you were my grandson? That your father was reborn as your son?" Suleiman said nothing at first. He was watching Ardeth. Seti smiled. It only took one. At Gimli's insistence, the young chieftain finally sat down, and only moments later, the first child of Rohan wandered over. The child, who was perhaps eight or nine, practically plopped into Ardeth's lap, any fear overwhelmed almost immediately by curiosity.  
  
"When Ardeth was about the age of that little girl," Suleiman answered finally, nodding to the child, "I think that is also when I also realized that Ardeth would make a far better chieftain for our people than his brother." Seti nodded. It was something he realized early on. However, he said nothing, and Suleiman continued, "I believe he was nine years old, because it was around two years later that he was kidnapped."  
  
He looked away from his son, asking hoarsely, "Why did you do nothing then, Grandfather? My son almost died in my arms!" Seti dropped his gaze. The truth was, nothing he said would truly answer his grandson's question. He was there, of course. He never stopped watching over the reincarnations of his children. But at the time. . .Nefertiri needed him more.  
  
"I know, grandson. I. . .was occupied elsewhere. Ardeth had you. . .and Evelyn needed me. I was there, in both places. I was in Egypt, and England, at the same time. But my daughter needed me more, grandson," Seti finally replied. He exhaled slowly, then continued, "By the time that situation was over, and I could return my full attention to you and Ardeth, you were back at Tiri, and Ardeth was in the care of the healers."

There was another long silence, then Suleiman asked quietly, "But you saw? You saw my son being used? Used to destroy my people, our people?" Seti could not answer that. Not because he had no answer, but because he could not bring himself to speak. Not when his throat was tight with suppressed rage. More than twenty years passed since the incident in question. Twenty years in mortal time, but to Seti, it was the blink of an eye.  
  
Knowing that. . .and knowing that it happened only two years before the death of Suleiman's physical body. . .it was not so hard to understand his grandson's fury. Suleiman was a man who could forgive many things. But not harm to his children. Never harm to his children. In that respect, he and Seti were much alike. Seti's dying thought was not rage against Imhotep and Anck-su-namun for their betrayal, but regret that his little girl would see him die.  
  
"I saw it all, grandson. I saw the confrontation between you and the traitor. I also saw your eleven year old son pull himself upright and kill the traitor, when all seemed lost," Seti answered finally. He stared for a long time at the children now surrounding Ardeth. One in his lap, one on either side, and one in front. The group was growing, as more and more children grew bold enough to question this stranger.  
  
"You know, that bastard almost killed my son," Suleiman said softly, "and he almost killed me. I did not die, because of my son. Ardeth killed him to save me. He should have been resting. Should have been regaining his strength. But instead, he saved my life. And how did I thank my little boy? Did I hug him each night and tell him how much I loved him? La. I stopped being his father, and focused all my attention on making him into a good chieftain."  
  
"He loved you, nonetheless, Suleiman. And he still loves you. We both failed our children, my grandson. I failed Nefertiri and Rameses, I even failed your mother. I sometimes think that is the fate of any father who is also a ruler," Seti answered quietly. In the beginning, he had little faith in his son's reincarnation. It wasn't that Ardeth was incapable. . .he was just so young when he became chieftain, and the Elders were fools.  
  
But Ardeth never gave up, never stopped fighting. Seti went on after a moment, "And perhaps our failures are what gave our children the strength they needed. Especially your Ardeth. Nothing was handed to him. . .he fought for everything in his life. He fought to live, he fought to survive. He fought to make himself worthy of you. He fought the Elders, he fought Imhotep, he fought to make Celia his queen."  
  
Suleiman smiled at that, saying, "Aywa. You asked about Rameses. When Ardeth was thirteen, a few weeks before I left my mortal body, I found the prophecies regarding my mother's return to the Med-jai. When the father is reborn as the son."_When the father is reborn as the son_. Seti answered softly, "That was the way it had to be. Whatever else you might have done wrong as a father, you did at least one thing right. You married Altair Costas. Even after you joined us, she had the strength to be a good mother to your children. She is the source of your son's strength. . . she and his wife. Even as you were trying to prepare your son for his eventual destiny as chieftain, she remained Ardeth's mother."  
  
"Aywa. What do you suppose he is telling them? Is he telling them about our world? About the new century? Is he telling them about his own children, about his family, about the legends of our people?" Suleiman asked. Seti looked at his grandson in surprise, then realized he couldn't hear what the boy was saying. Perhaps it was because Seti was the living god, perhaps it was for other reasons he didn't understand.  
  
Whatever the reason, he could not hear what Seti did. Pharaoh replied quietly, "He is telling them about his children. How Miranda will sometimes jump onto the bed in the morning, and neither Ardeth nor Celia are yet awake. The way Andreas perks up when he see his father. His hope that he and Celia will have more children. Ardeth is beginning to understand his freedom in this world, Suleiman."  
  
At his grandson's confused stare, Seti sighed and explained, "Here, he is not a chieftain or a commander. Here, he is but a warrior. Here, Ardeth can be Ardeth. The man. It is not a replacement for his wife and children, but it was not meant to be. For all that the Med-jai love him, they do not understand or know him. Not the way Celia or Altair or your daughters do. Here, he can find a similar freedom to the one he enjoys with his wife."  
  
"I never thought of it like that. I came of age in a different time, Grandfather. Ardeth's world changes so fast. And it is not finished changing, either. But you speak truly. My son is only truly free with his wife and children. But here. . .as you say. Here, his only responsibility is the duty of every warrior," Suleiman mused.  
  
Seti looked at his grandson, saying softly, "Do not loathe yourself, Suleiman, for what you did or what you failed to do as his father. That is of help to no one, much less Ardeth. You did the best you could. Prepared him as best you could. Given what he has been through over the last thirty-two years. . .this, too, he will survive. You must have faith in him. Now, when he needs it most, you cannot withdraw that faith from him."  
  
Suleiman replied, returning the gaze steadily, "And you, Grandfather? What will you do? I cannot stay here. I can only leave and return once more. My other children also need me." Understanding dawned on his face, as he finally understood why his grandfather didn't try to save Ardeth, more than twenty years earlier. But again, Suleiman asked, because he needed to hear the answer, "What will you do?"  
  
"I? I will do just what I told Anck-su-namun I will do. I will watch over Ardeth, and I will protect him. I will stay here, because right now, he needs me far more than Evelyn does. She has Rick O'Connell. . .Terumun. Ardeth has no one here. Yes, he has his new friends, but Aragorn has responsibilities to people other than Ardeth. My only responsibility is to my child. Go, my grandson. I will see to Ardeth," Seti promised.  
  
His grandson inclined his head, and then he was gone. Seti turned his attention back to Ardeth, silently apologizing to his son's reincarnation for not being there when he needed him in the past. Like when his father's trusted friend turned traitor and kidnapped the eleven year old Ardeth to force Suleiman into helping him to raise Imhotep.  
  
Was it possible to dream in the Afterlife? Was it possible for Seti to have nightmares about that terrible time? There were times when his vision would play tricks on him, and he would see that bastard using his dagger to slice into that child's flesh. Then he would see the grown man. Images that frightened him even now. But he was here now. He was here now. . .and nothing would tear him from Ardeth's side.  
  
He was somewhat concerned for his daughter-in-law. She was strong and capable, he knew that. She faced many trials before. His worry for her had nothing to do with her competence and everything to do with. . .simply loving her. On the other hand, she had Anck-su-namun with her. . .whatever his concubine did to him, she loved Ardath and her reincarnation ferociously. She might have betrayed him, but she would never betray Ardath or Celia.  
  
. . .  
  
One by one, the mothers came and collected their children. There was still wariness in each set of eyes, but wariness was better than suspicion and fear. He could appreciate wariness. Their first priority was the protection of their children, and they did not know him. The last to leave him was the first to approach him, and as her mother walked over, the little girl rose to her feet, careful to avoid any tender body parts.  
  
She bent down and kissed his cheek, whispering, "Thank you for your stories, Ardeth. I am glad you are here with us." Ardeth smiled, realizing for the first time that he did not know her name. But she was gone before he could ask her, and Ardeth closed his eyes with a deep sigh. His bedroll was alongside the ones set up by Gimli, Legolas and Aragorn. In a strange way, he felt like a young boy, wanting to stay close to the people he knew best here.  
  
"Do you wish for aid in returning to your bed, Ardeth?" Eowyn asked unexpectedly. Ardeth opened his eyes, startled by her voice. With a shock, he realized he almost fell asleep where he sat. That was the only explanation that made sense. Usually, he would have sensed someone that close to him. Back home, the only people who could sneak up on him were Imhotep and Anck-su-namun. . .and they were supernatural beings. Eowyn, though shieldmaiden of Rohan, was an ordinary human being, no more magickal than Ardeth.  
  
She smiled at him, though there was a sadness in her eyes, particularly when she glanced over at Aragorn. Ardeth replied, hoping that he was wrong about the reason for that sadness, "I think it may be necessary, my Lady." Eowyn smiled as he extended his hand to her. She grasped it and pulled him upright. Ardeth fought back a groan as pain radiated through his body. He was tired and he ached all over, but had no wish to advertise that fact. Even if these people were not his enemy, he still had no wish for them to know he was in pain.  
  
It wasn't that he distrusted Eowyn. Indeed, the lovely shieldmaiden was the only other person with whom he felt comfortable here, aside from Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli. He still thought that was partially due to the fact she reminded him so very much of Aleta. During the last day, as they traveled toward this mountain fortress, however, he realized there was at least one difference between Eowyn and Aleta.  
  
Aleta Bey Carnahan was a healer by training and by Calling. Eowyn was a warrior at heart. She longed to defend her family and her home, just as her brother did, just as her cousin did. Ardeth felt the helplessness she did when they faced the Anubis warriors in Ahm Shere. He felt that helplessness each time he helped to carry an injured warrior to the healers, and he knew there was nothing he could do in this particular battle.  
  
He felt that helplessness again when Sanure's treachery almost killed Celia and Andreas. Aywa, he was there and he could hold his wife through the spasms of pain, but there was _nothing_ he could do. _Imhotep_ saved them both. _Not_ Ardeth. To this day, he still didn't know what moment terrified him more. . .the second wave of Anubis warriors on the sands of Ahm Shere or that brief moment when Celia went limp in his arms and he thought he lost her forever.  
  
They reached his bedroll only a few moments later. Eowyn gently eased him to the ground, and this time, Ardeth did groan. Legolas was at his side in an instant, helping Eowyn to settle him on the roll. The shieldmaiden smiled, saying softly, "I know not when I will see my brother. But this I know. . .it does not hurt so much, Ardeth of the future, with you around."  
  
With that, she gently kissed his cheek, just as the child of a few moments earlier did. Surprised, Ardeth watched her go, and Legolas just smiled at him. Ardeth glared at the young elf, saying, "Not a word out of you, Prince of Mirkwood. I begin to understand why Gimli calls you a 'pointy-eared menace.' I am totally faithful to my Celia." The elf's smile widened as he stretched out on his own bedroll beside Ardeth's.  
  
"I never thought otherwise," came the innocent reply. Ardeth would have laughed outright, but his wound was paining him. He pressed his hand against his gut, willing himself to fight the pain back. He was injured before. This was nothing new for him. He closed his eyes, breathing through the pain. There was a sound beside him, and he opened his eyes to find Legolas hovering over him. A half-second after that, Aragorn was at his side.  
  
"Lie back, Ardeth, and let me see to your wound," Aragorn instructed. The younger man thought about disobeying. . .for all of two seconds. Then his practicality reasserted itself. He was sent to this world for a particular reason. He would be needed in the fight ahead. And he would be of no use if the wound became infected.  
  
Aragorn set to work immediately, and for the first time, Ardeth noticed the stone hanging from his new friend's neck. Ardeth asked softly, "What is that?" Aragorn stopped briefly, a moment of anguish flashing briefly across his face. Legolas looked away. This. . .was not good. Ardeth briefly wished that he hadn't asked the question, but only briefly. It was a rather peculiar ornament for a man to wear. . .at least, few men he knew wore crystals of that nature.  
  
After a moment, however, Aragorn answered in a husky voice, "It is. . . similar. . .to your cloak. The one given to you by your wife on your wedding day." Ardeth raised his eyebrows. Now _that_ was interesting. Aragorn continued, "Your words were close to my heart for my comfort, Ardeth, when you spoke of your wife. . .a little too close. How she was not accepted by your people because she was different, because she was not of your people."  
  
Ardeth kept silent, not knowing what to say. O'Connell would have made a flippant remark, but he wasn't O'Connell. Aragorn went on, "Her name is Arwen. Daughter of Lord Elrond of Rivendell. An elven princess, if you wish to call her that." Ardeth knew from Legolas that elves lived a very long time. And while Aragorn aged at a much slower rate, he was still at least half-human. _Oh_. Now he began to understand.  
  
However, Aragorn wasn't finished. He explained, "Arwen and her people are going to Valinor. To the Undying Lands. Sauron and Saruman are poisoning this land, and the time of the elves is over. I. . . convinced her to go." Now things were sounding uncomfortably familiar to the young chieftain from the distant future. In Aragorn's words, he heard a repeat of his conversation with Evelyn on the barge, as they raced to rescue Celia from Khaldun.  
  
Ardeth hoped there was no condemnation in his voice as he asked softly, "And why did you do that?" He asked the question, though he already knew the answer. It was the same reason he fought so hard when he realized he was falling in love with Celia. What could he offer her? He was the chieftain of his people, and he could never make her his first priority. And she deserved no less than to be first.  
  
"Because if she remained here, she would die. I was. . .trying to be unselfish. I was trying to. . ." Aragorn replied. His voice cracked and he ducked his head. Ardeth didn't know how to answer that. He didn't know what to say. There was so much he didn't know. Aragorn mentioned Arwen's father, Elrond. He saw how Theoden was with Eowyn. He loved her as a daughter. He, too, saw the way Eowyn looked at Aragorn.  
  
Did this Elrond, then, look at Aragorn in the same way that Theoden did? Ardeth asked slowly, "And what did Arwen want? We all die, Aragorn." The older man raised his head and looked at Ardeth, his eyes almost expressionless.  
  
For the first time since he met Aragorn, the young chieftain couldn't read his new friend, and that worried him. Ardeth wasn't trying to judge Aragorn. Truly, he wasn't. He only wanted to understand, and perhaps help his new friend. Evelyn told him nearly two years earlier on that barge, that by taking Celia's choice from her, he would be presuming too much. Aragorn said softly, "You are right. We all die. And she wished to stay."  
  
Ardeth thought as much. Aragorn smiled at him wearily and reached over to squeeze his shoulder, saying softly, "Your wound heals day by day, Ardeth. Sleep now. We all shall have need of it. The enemy we fight is unlike anything you have encountered before." Ardeth nodded. However, he wasn't so sure of that. While he never encountered Uruk-hai before, he did encounter the undead. Mummy priests, mummy warriors, Anubis warriors.  
  
But there was one thing he never counted on. . .the Wargs and their riders. He discovered this the following morning. The night passed quickly, as quickly as it ever did in his own time. He fell asleep, dreaming once more of Celia. While she was never truly far from his conscious mind, Ardeth kept her in a safe place during the day. He focused on the trek to Helms Deep and watching out for ambushes.  
  
At night, in his dreams, she was everywhere. In his dreams, in his memories. He could see her smile, hear her laughter, smell her perfume, feel her fingers in his hair. She loved to do that. Loved to run her fingers through his hair, whether they were making love or watching television. Anatol, true to form, bought them a DVD player as a wedding gift, and the O'Connells provided them with DVD's.  
  
Ardeth, knowing how much the children liked the family time, tried to stay awake. It was never a matter of boredom. But if he stayed seated for more than a half hour, and had nothing to occupy his hands or his minds, he fell asleep. Many times. . .many times many. . .he would start out sitting upright while they watched a movie with the children. And slowly, he would slide down, until his head lay in his wife's lap.  
  
He would doze, waking up to feel her fingers in his hair, or caressing his forehead. She would sense he was awake, and murmur, "Shhhh. . .it's all right. Go back to sleep, love." And he always did, for he knew that she was watching over them all. Eventually, however, she would gently nudge him to wake up, and lead him into their bedroom. He would be awake just long enough to make that journey, and undress, and then he would fall asleep once more.  
  
It was something his more trusted warriors noticed. . .in the years since he met and married Celia, he seemed less weary. He slept better, lying in her arms, and he could tell her what troubled him. It was a hard thing to do, in the beginning. Ardeth was so used to protecting other people, taking the heaviest burdens for himself, that he attempted to do the same thing with Celia at first.  
  
She, however, would have none of that. While they argued about O'Connell rather frequently, and Imhotep on occasion, they also argued about his habit of 'protecting' her. She was his wife, and she was supposed to take care of him, Celia exclaimed during one such argument, how could she do that when he wouldn't let her? It was in this way that Ardeth learned something very important.  
  
He would have never imagined it to be so, but it took far greater strength to acknowledge that one couldn't do it alone, than it did to try to carry the burden without help. It took greater strength and greater courage to ask for help. Sometimes, it was necessary to 'go it alone.' Sometimes, there was no help to be found, and when that happened, one simply did the best job possible under the circumstances.  
  
And the reason it took greater strength, greater courage, to ask for help came down to one simple word. Trust. Ardeth learned that when he tried to carry the burden alone, it appeared that he didn't trust Celia.  
  
That wasn't true, of course, but once he acknowledged that. . .it became easier to remember to ask for help, even without saying the words. He still wasn't very good at asking for help. During the last few days, Ardeth found himself in the position of trusting men he barely knew with his life, with his memories. He really had no choice. They saved his life, after all. . . they and Gandalf. And they knew this world. He did not.  
  
He was already drifting toward awareness and a new day, when a hand shook his shoulder. Unfortunately, while he was in such a state, Ardeth did not react well to being wakened if he didn't know who was doing the waking. Thus, his hand was in motion, reaching for his scimitar, before he was even fully awake. A hand settled over his, and the voice whispered, "Ardeth, be at ease! It is I, Aragorn!"  
  
It took a half-second for Ardeth to process the voice, and realize it was Aragorn. He opened his eyes, to find the self-exiled king kneeling over him with a sheepish expression. Ardeth whispered with a sigh, "My apologies, my friend. I am afraid my instincts do not permit me to react well if an unknown person wakes me. It is why my warriors usually call my name when they wake me for my watch." Or his wife, for that matter.  
  
"It is I who should apologize. . .twas a foolish error on my part," Aragorn replied, helping him to sit up, then stand. Ardeth glanced around, rearranging his robes, which were tangled during the night. It was early morning. . .the sun was not yet risen, but it was no earlier than when Ardeth usually awoke. Even so, most people were still not awake. The remnants of the Fellowship and the soldiers of Rohan were awakening their people.  
  
Ardeth looked back at Aragorn, who looked very tired. The young chieftain wondered if he had dreams of his own, about his Arwen. Ardeth said casually, not wanting to draw attention to the other man's concerns, "I was thinking, Aragorn. Perhaps it is best if I walked today. I feel somewhat. . .I do not like riding a horse, when I see small children walking." Aragorn looked at him, and Ardeth added, "I have walked and fought under far worse circumstances."  
  
Aragorn, to his surprise, did not argue. Instead, he replied, "I have been thinking the same thing. And the horses can do with the rest." Ardeth nodded his agreement, and began packing his gear once more. For a moment, he missed Celia keenly. . .for a moment, he allowed himself to think about how much he missed her. But then, with regret, he banished thoughts of his wife to the back of his mind. Dwelling on how much he missed her would do no good.  
  
It took a little over an hour, as people stumbled to their feet and packed up their goods, then ate, but by the time the sun was risen, the people of Rohan were once more headed for their mountain fortress. Over the next few hours, Ardeth learned more about Helms Deep from Eowyn. It was hewn from stone, stone within the mountain, and had one weakness. Eowyn didn't seem to think much about this one weakness.  
  
However, it gave Ardeth a bad feeling, and a quick glance at Aragorn told him that he was thinking the same thing. It surprised him little, for they were both warriors. One weakness, no matter how small, could wreak great destruction.  
  
But Aragorn told him in an undertone that there was little the defenders could do to remove the weakness in question. But was that not true of most things? One could take all the precautions in the world, could do everything 'right,' and disaster could still strike. He was reminded of this as he walked at Aragorn's side, with Eowyn on the other side. Ardeth had the occasion to observe his 'little sister' over the last few days.  
  
He witnessed her initial wariness toward Aragorn give way to interest. . . and then something more. Did she love Aragorn? Hard to say. But Ardeth knew that regardless of where Lady Arwen was, Aragorn still loved _her_. Doubtless, he would always love her. And Eowyn deserved to find a man who would love her. Ardeth feared, to use an American term of Celia's, that Aragorn would become involved with the shieldmaiden 'on the rebound.'  
  
They both deserved better, and thus, when Ardeth heard Eowyn question Aragorn about the jewel he wore, he winced. He glanced over at her, and when Aragorn took a long time in answering, Eowyn returned his look. She was wondering if she should have kept silent. He could see it in her eyes, and silently begged her not to press Aragorn about the woman who gave him such a gift. It didn't work. Eowyn asked softly, "My Lord?"  
  
At last, Aragorn answered softly, "She is sailing to the Undying Lands, with all that is left of her kin." Now Eowyn looked truly sorry for asking, and Ardeth thought he might be seeing something else in her eyes. Perhaps anger with Lady Arwen? _Do not judge her, Eowyn_, Ardeth silently implored the young woman, _for you do not know the entire story. Neither of us do.  
_  
He remembered his own conversation with Aragorn the previous night, about Lady Arwen. Uncomfortable with the silence that fell, and with the memory of that late night conversation, Ardeth said quietly, "I will join Legolas." The blond-haired elf was in front of them. From Aragorn and Gimli, he learned that the elf prince was a tracker of some skill, for he had better vision and better hearing than his dwarf and human counterparts.  
  
Aragorn nodded and Ardeth handed him the reins of his horse, then walked forward to join Legolas. As he reached his new friend, two of the king's men trotted past them. That didn't draw Ardeth's attention. . .he noticed it, of course, but what really drew his attention was his friend's expression. Legolas seemed. . .anxious. No, that wasn't the term he wanted, but it would have to do. He certainly seemed uncomfortable.  
  
Ardeth was on the point of asking Legolas what troubled him when a disturbance ahead drew his attention back to the two horsemen. Legolas was running then, and Ardeth ignored the stitch in his side to accompany his friend. As they topped a hill, Ardeth was shocked to see a great, monstrous beast attacking one of the men. The other lay very still, and from here, he could not tell if the man was unconscious. . .or dead.  
  
Legolas was already in motion, drawing an arrow from his quiver. He fired at the beast, still running. It took just one shot to fell the monster, but its rider was another story. While in flight, Legolas drew another weapon, never even making a sound as he attacked.  
  
At his side, Ardeth kept pace, his gut clenching when he saw what remained of the motionless figure. It wasn't pretty. . .for Ardeth, who was no stranger to ugliness in any form, that was saying a great deal. Nor was the monster that killed him. He had no words to describe it, and if he weren't in the middle of a battle, he was sure his mind would have shut down. But there was a battle coming, and he needed his focus.  
  
"What is it?" he heard Aragorn call, and turned to face the other man. Legolas was pulling his weapon free of. . .what did they call those human-like demons? Oh yes. The orcs, or the Uruk-hai. Ardeth barely suppressed a shudder as he stared down at the badly-warped body. According to Gandalf and Legolas, the first orcs were actually elves, tortured until their souls shattered and their bodies twisted into a horrible parody of what they were once.  
  
Legolas told Aragorn, "A scout!" He kicked at the dead body, his face twisted with disgust. Even from this distance, Ardeth could see Aragorn's gray eyes widen, then the older man spun around and headed back to the king. Legolas helped the still-living man to his feet. Ardeth looked around for something, some way of covering the dead man. But the survivor had his own way. . .he covered his friend's mangled head with his own helmet.  
  
Ardeth heard the king demand what Aragorn saw. The ranger cried out, "Wargs! We're under attack!" Legolas was already in motion, running to the next hill. Ardeth followed him, tuning out the terrified screams of the women and children. At the top of the hill, Ardeth froze. It was Ahm Shere all over again. His blood turned to ice water, and he swallowed hard. He fought the Anubis warriors. . .he could fight these Wargs, too. But he needed a horse, and Legolas said hoarsely, "Go. . .I will be fine!" Ardeth nodded, then raced after Aragorn.  
  
. . .  
  
"Wargs! We're under attack!"  
  
With those words, the day that started out pleasantly enough for Eowyn turned to chaos. Much to her surprise, she slept well the previous night, though that may have been due to as much to exhaustion as anything else. She had no idea how far they walked today, but between the distance and the air, it was no wonder she was exhausted. Most of them were. Except the children. Eowyn smiled, thinking of the children sitting around Ardeth the previous night.  
  
Then, she finally worked up the courage to ask Lord Aragorn about the jewel he wore about his neck. There was never any doubt in her mind that it was the gift of a woman. Her only question was if the woman was his mother. . .or someone else. She caught Ardeth's expression, almost as soon as the words were out and while Lord Aragorn was lost in silence.  
  
She saw the other man gazing at her almost pleadingly. . .as if he knew the story, and wished to spare Lord Aragorn the necessity of explanations. But Eowyn came too far to back down now. She asked, "My Lord?" Ardeth's eyes closed and he dipped his head. When he opened his eyes, there was no condemnation there. Only sadness. But for her, or for Lord Aragorn? That query deepened when her question was answered.  
  
She was going to the Undying Lands, Eowyn learned, with what remained of her family. The Undying Lands. Was that not the elven paradise, or something similar? His Lady was an elf? Perhaps the sister of Legolas? That would certainly explain the bond between the two. . .or perhaps not. If he was her brother, then would he not be with the rest of the family?  
  
And what sort of woman left a man such as Lord Aragorn? Certainly not the same sort of woman whom Ardeth married. From her conversations with Ardeth during the last few days, she learned a great deal about his time and his family. He made her laugh with stories about his two children, Miranda and Andreas. Miranda was six years of age, and Andreas was thirteen months old. Eowyn's favorite story was a recent one. Ardeth's enemy turned ally decided to change the swaddling clothes of Ardeth's son one day, after seeing Celia do it countless times.  
  
Eowyn, knowing quite a lot about the way men thought, could guess why. Celia, a woman, did it. . .how hard could it be? Far harder than he could have imagined. Undoing the swaddling clothes. . .or, as it was called in Ardeth's time, diaper. . .was easy. However, Andreas was not quite finished. It was unnecessary for Ardeth to say anymore. Eowyn burst out laughing, for she could guess what happened next.  
  
The servants in the Great Hall would have never dreamed of speaking so frankly to Eowyn the child or Eowyn the woman, but the shieldmaiden sometimes listened to conversations in the kitchen. She knew about caring from babies not from experience but from such conversations. What made Eowyn laugh even harder was the man's reaction. Imhotep (the people of this time had passing strange names) wiped his face on a towel and told little Andreas, "You are just like your father!"  
  
There were other stories, stories that made Eowyn feel all the closer to Ardeth's wife Celia. This was a woman she could understand and appreciate. Ardeth taught his wife how to fight, building on knowledge she once thought lost. Ardeth didn't expand on this, and Eowyn decided perhaps it wasn't necessary for her to know. But yes. She liked what she heard of the Med-jai queen.  
  
Eowyn heard little of Lord Aragorn's Lady, but she wasn't nearly as sure about her as she was about Queen Celia. She and Lord Aragorn walked in silence for several moments, and Eowyn struggled to think of something to say. However, that became un-necessary when they heard a disturbance from over the ridge. Ardeth went ahead, joining Legolas when silence fell, and Eowyn prayed that he wasn't hurt. He was not. . .but as she was to learn much later, one of her own people was not so lucky. One of her people lost his life to the wargs. . .the first of many over the next few days.  
  
As Lord Aragorn answered her uncle's demand, Eowyn heard the women and children screaming, soldiers shouting. Over the din, her uncle shouted, "All riders to the front of the column!" Eowyn held out the reins of his horse to Aragorn as he returned, which he took without a word. Ardeth was but a few steps behind him. He looked. . . Eowyn's blood ran cold. He looked disturbed. But wargs were terrifying beasts, as vicious as they were ugly.  
  
As her uncle issued commands and the warriors rode forth, Eowyn heard another voice. Gimli. The dwarf was being propelled onto a horse, urging his helpers, "C'mon, get me up there, c'mon, I can ride!" If her world wasn't falling apart, Eowyn would have laughed at the picture the dwarf made as he struggled to balance himself on the horse.  
  
On a ridge, the elf prince watched, a lone figure silhouetted. Aragorn was mounting his horse, while Ardeth did the same. Then Eowyn was distracted from the two warriors by her uncle, who rode up. He said urgently, "You must lead the people to Helms Deep, and make haste!" That cage of which she spoke to Lord Aragorn. . .was it only days earlier? It seemed like an eternity now. But that cage was still there, and Eowyn could feel it closing around her.

She fought it. Oh, how she fought it! For once, just for once, she longed to do something with the skills she had! She was so tired of being frail Eowyn, to be protected and shielded. She was not perhaps the fighter that Theodred was, and Eomer, but she did have skill with a blade. Lord Aragorn said so himself, when their weapons clashed in the Great Hall. Eowyn reminded her uncle, her voice half-pleading and half-defiant, "I can fight!"  
  
"NO!" her uncle retorted angrily. The pleading was gone as Eowyn stared up at him. Now there was only defiance. His face softened, as did his voice, and he added more gently, "You must do this. . .for me." Now, it seemed like he was the one pleading with her. There was always a special bond between Eowyn and her uncle. . . when he spoke those words, 'for me,' she could not say no.  
  
And he knew that. He looked at her one last time, almost as he did when Gandalf shattered the enchantment. '_I know your face_,' he had told her, before her name returned to his mind and his lips. The king of Rohan looked away, then, and called, "Follow me!" The time for talking was over, and Eowyn had to lead her people to Helms Deep. She heard Gimli urging his horse forward, and saw him at last get it moving in the right direction.  
  
Eowyn turned her attention to the remaining people. . .old men, old women. . .young mothers, and young children. They were farmers and blacksmiths. . .not soldiers. Her uncle was right. How could she abandon them now, when they looked to her for guidance? Eowyn called out, "Head for the Landsrath! Stay together!"  
  
There was relief on the faces of many now. They had direction, they knew what they had to do. Eowyn took that respite and looked back to the departing warriors. Her eyes met Aragorn's, and for a long moment, they simply stared at each other. Then he turned his horse toward the ridge where Legolas waited, quickly catching up with Ardeth. Eowyn watched for a moment longer.  
  
"Be safe, my Lord Aragorn," the young shieldmaiden whispered, "be safe, my brother from a distant time." With that blessing, that wish, that prayer spoken, Eowyn turned her attention back to her people and began herding them toward safety. She swallowed hard. In the last few days, she had her uncle returned to her, and lost her brother and her cousin. Would she now lose that uncle, and their new friends?  
  
. . .  
  
It took bare moments for Ardeth to return for his horse, mount up, and ride toward the coming battle. As they approached the ridge where Legolas stood alone, firing arrow after arrow at the oncoming wargs, Ardeth's heart nearly stopped. He thought perhaps he imagined this, but he did not. The setting was different, the people were different, and the enemy was different. But at the same time, the enemy was the same, for these wargs were as un-natural as the Anubis Warriors he and the Med-jai fought outside Ahm Shere two years earlier.  
  
As the army approached the ridge, Legolas swung up behind Gimli in a movement that Ardeth could scarcely believe, though he saw it with his own eyes. Perhaps it was something he learned as a boy, perhaps it was part of the cat-like grace that came from being an elf, but it was one of the most amazing things Ardeth ever saw. He turned his attention back to the thunderous force now approaching them.  
  
He cleared his mind, then, of everything but the battle. There was no room for wonderment or anything else. He was a warrior now, even if he was not a chieftain here. Around him, he could hear war cries screamed. . .Gondor, Rohan, elven, dwarf, and even his own Med-jai war cries were added to the din of battle. Then the two forces clashed, and it seemed to Ardeth that the confrontation sounded like a clap of thunder.  
  
In the moments that followed, Ardeth was quickly separated from Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli. He was never as rash as his brother in battle, but he took greater care than usual now, ensuring that he did not lop off the head of an ally by accident. Celia sometimes teased him, after she learned about the battle at Ahm Shere, about using his scimitar as a half-boomerang. Throwing it to take the head of an Anubis Warrior. . .then riding up to retrieve it.  
  
Such a trick would not work here, unfortunately. A demon rode up, teeth bared in a horrible smile. The smile remained on his face as he died, Ardeth's scimitar slicing across his throat. The Med-jai lashed out with a kick from his horse, knocking the orc from the warg, then drove his scimitar into the brain of the warg. The warg collapsed, and a cry from the opposite direction drew Ardeth's attention to a new threat. He ignored the mess on his scimitar, he ignored the pain in his side, he ignored all but the fight.  
  
One by one, each of the warg riders was either killed or driven away. A shout alerted the exhausted Med-jai that the battle was won, and Ardeth slipped from his horse. He cleaned his scimitar as best he could, then looked up as Legolas called, "Aragorn!" Ardeth began looking around for the other man, frowning when he couldn't find him. He lost track of all three of his new friends during the battle.  
  
Gimli, who was standing near a rather large warg, glowering at it with a mixture of disgust and satisfaction, repeated, "Aragorn?" Ardeth could hear the concern in the dwarf's voice, that clipped note demanding an answer. No answer came, and the Med-jai moved quickly to Gimli's side. The dwarf looked up at him, saying with a worried smile, "Good to see you in one piece, lad. . .have you seen Aragorn?"  
  
"And I am glad to see you well, Gimli. No, I have not seen Aragorn, not since the beginning of the battle. . .come, we will look together," Ardeth replied. Gimli nodded, the worry obvious in his eyes, and the pair began moving from body to body, fearing each time they came to a dead body that it would belong to their friend. Each time, the two breathed a soft sigh of relief. Aragorn was not among the dead. . .nor was he among the injured.  
  
He was nowhere to be found. A little ahead of them, Legolas was standing over. . .something, or perhaps someone. Ardeth and Gimli exchanged a glance, not really paying attention to the king, who was also looking for the missing Aragorn. As they reached Legolas, Ardeth saw not Aragorn's limp body, but the twisted visage of one of their enemies. And he was dying. Even as he lay dying, he was laughing.  
  
Ice filled Ardeth's veins as his mind refused to accept what the monster's laughter might mean. He could not speak. Could not accept that Aragorn might be gone. He had called Aragorn 'Andreas' in his delirium, and while Aragorn was old enough to be his father, if not his grandfather, Ardeth still thought of him as an older brother in this strange world. He could not speak, but that was not an affliction with which Gimli was familiar.  
  
The dwarf growled, brandishing his axe, "Tell me what happened, and I _might_ ease your passing!" The demon laughed still, and Ardeth could hear him choking on his own blood. His? Its? It mattered little. This demon saw what happened to Aragorn, and if Ardeth thought for one microsecond that it would bring them answers, he would shake the demon until it told them. It proved to be unnecessary, though Ardeth didn't fool himself into believing that the monster told them out of any desire to 'ease' his death.  
  
No, the demon replied, his voice mocking even as he died, "He's _dead_! He took a **little** tumble off the cliff." Ardeth wanted to hit it then. He wanted to scream in denial and smash his fist into the thing's face until it was a bloody pulp. If Aragorn was dead, then Ardeth failed in his purpose here. And that was something he could not accept. He controlled his rage, he restrained his grief. . .  
  
. . .For Legolas had no such inhibitions. The young elf prince grabbed the orc and shook him, snarling, "You _lie_!" The demon laughed again, a laugh that was choked off as he died. For that small bit of mercy, Ardeth was more thankful than he could ever admit.

Gimli whispered the prince's name and looked toward the demon's fist. There, in the palm, was the proof of his words. Ardeth closed his eyes. It was the necklace worn by Aragorn, the gift from Lady Arwen. Ardeth opened his eyes once more and saw the same realization set in for Legolas. The prince released the demon, then stalked to the cliff after removing the necklace from the foul monster's fingers.  
  
Ardeth and Gimli exchanged a look, then the pair followed Legolas to the cliff, where Theoden was already seeking their lost friend. Ardeth's gut clenched once more, seeing the long drop and the rocks below. He didn't want to believe it. Didn't want to believe that the aid the people of Rohan so desperately needed was now lying down there somewhere, dead. And yet, Ardeth found it just as difficult to believe that Aragorn could have survived such a fall.  
  
On the other hand. . .Ardeth saw many strange and wonderful things, things that were far more miraculous than Aragorn surviving such a fall. He should have never survived the beating and torture he received at the hands of Lock-nah and Nizam Toth. . .either time. He did. Alex O'Connell successfully resurrected his mother following her murder at the hands of Meela Nais. His ancestress and his beloved successfully merged into one being to defeat Khaldun.  
  
Aragorn was meant for great things. If the Valar were capable of subverting Saruman's plan to bring Ardeth here and turn him into a mirror of darkness for Aragorn, if they were interested enough in aiding the people of this world by allowing him to communicate with them in their own language. . .surely they would do something to protect, to aid, one of their greatest warriors, one of the greatest hopes Middle Earth had against Saruman and Sauron?  
  
Theoden's voice distracted him as the king said, "Get the wounded on horses. The wolves of Isengard will return. Leave the dead." Legolas looked at the king, and Ardeth winced at his expression. It was almost as if the elf was willing the king to say something else. Even from Theoden's side profile, Ardeth could see the compassion in the king's eyes as he looked at the elven prince. Just as he heard the compassion in the man's voice as he added, "Come." Legolas looked away as the king descended the hill toward the rest of his men.  
  
Over the last few days, Ardeth picked up a few elven words and phrases, and the Med-jai stepped closer to Legolas, saying softly, "You must go, _mellon nin_. You are needed by the people of Rohan." Legolas looked at him, startled, and Ardeth continued in a low voice, "Give me but one horse, and I will find Aragorn. . .if only to bring his body back for burial." He put his hand on the prince's shoulder, even as Legolas shook his head. Ardeth knew it was not because of a lack of love for Aragorn. He knew better than that.  
  
"You are wounded, Ardeth. . .by rights, you should not even be in battle. You were stabbed, your broken ribs are still healing. Aragorn would never forgive me if. . ." Legolas began. Ardeth said nothing, merely stared at the prince for a long time. After a moment, Legolas put his hand over Ardeth's, adding softly, "You are right. Warriors do battle, no matter how badly they are injured, and they do not turn away from their friends and brothers when they are needed most. Forgive me, _mellon nin_. I will do as you ask. Take Aragorn's horse. He is familiar with you, and with Aragorn."  
  
"_Shukran_," Ardeth said softly, giving the young man's shoulder a gentle squeeze. Legolas frowned at him, and Ardeth continued with a smile, "It is '_thank you'_ in my language, in Arabic. Go now. If nothing else, Gimli will need your aid. Dwarves have little need to ride, I think." Now Legolas smiled at him, though his eyes were still haunted. He was afraid. . .while he and Gimli were becoming good friends, Aragorn was obviously his best friend.  
  
"You are a good friend, Ardeth, and a good ally to have. I will go, _mellon nin_, but I expect you to have Aragorn back before the sun rises once more," Legolas warned. Ardeth didn't know if he could do that. . .he only knew that he had to try. If there was a way to find Aragorn, if there was a way to save his friend, Ardeth would find that way.  
  
And if by some mischance, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, was dead, Saruman and his puppeteer Sauron would not find it so easy to conquer Middle Earth. So long as Ardeth Bey drew breath, he would stand beside Gimli, Legolas, and whatever allies Gandalf brought back with him. This he swore upon everything he held sacred as a Med-jai, as a warrior, as a chieftain, and as a man. He would not let Middle Earth fall.


	11. Stranger Alliances

> Reviewers:  
  
Whew! Eight reviews this time! Okay, where do I start, where do I start, where do I start? Celia, be quiet, we aren't talking about your and Ardeth's honeymoon any longer!  
  
Sailor Elf: Just saying it's great is acceptable, though I also like hearing WHY you like it. Wooohooo's are also acceptable.  
  
Belphegor: Wow. . .two reviews! Okay, let's see if I can't combine them into one. Thanks for the www.seatofkings.net link. I checked it out, and it was a big help. I'm also glad that you've been reading since '_The Forever Friends_.' Someone once picked up the stories with '_What Might Have Been_,' had **no** idea why there was such tension between Rick and Celia, and badmouthed Celia. I was not a happy camper. If you ever do that family tree, please let me know, I'd love to see that. I would love to take the time to address each of your comments, but if I did that, there wouldn't be room for the other reviewer acknowledgments. Just know I appreciate the time you took to review. Acceptable?  
  
Terreis: Yes, this is Ardeth we're talking about, after all! And I'm glad I surprised you. . .it's not fun when you can anticipate what the writer will do next. It's fun anticipating the possibilities, but not seeing it right there in front of you. And I LOVED the card. Love those eyes. (sighs dreamily)  
  
Aria-hannah: Some of the stories mentioned haven't been written. . . _Priorities_, where Jonathan and Aleta fall in love and Celia learns she's pregnant with Andreas; _The Lesser Evil_, which sees Lock-nah's resurrection; or the story where Andreas is born. And while I haven't read all of the massive amount of LOTR fic, it surprises me that no one else has written a story where someone looks for Aragorn. Hmm. Because I have at least two. . .this one, and '_Silent Guardian_.'  
  
Kitrazzle Fayn: Hey, Kit, good to see you back! I enjoyed writing the entire scene with Suleiman and Seti. Suleiman is, as ever, a lot of fun to write, and Seti is becoming just as enjoyable.  
  
Deana: Nope. . .that's your style. Having Ardeth go over the cliff instead, though I admit, it would have been interesting to see what would have happened if that was the case. Hope a week later is soon enough!  
  
Immortalwizardpirateelf-fan: Hello and welcome! I'm glad you're enjoying the story!
> 
> Quick note before I go on. . .I know the email addresses listed at the end were not in the proper form, but all attempts at correction failed. I guess everyone wants to make sure 'real' email addresses aren't listed here.
> 
> Part Ten  
  
They rode on to their sanctuary, to Helms Deep. Legolas rode behind Gimli, unable to speak once they parted with Ardeth. Gimli could not find the words to comfort his elven friend, for he still could not accept that Aragorn was gone. There was a part of him that was angry with himself and Legolas for not going after their friend, for leaving that task to a badly-injured stranger to this world. They were breaking faith with Aragorn. . .they were not staying true to the Fellowship. It was as he feared at Amon Hen. The Fellowship failed.  
  
Yet, Gimli knew that wasn't true. They were holding true to Aragorn's wishes. They would defend Helms Deep. Ardeth. . .bless that lad. Gimli looked up while they searched the water below for Aragorn's body, looked up to see Ardeth's expression. He didn't want to believe that Aragorn was dead, any more than Gimli or Legolas did. And he would find a way to bring their friend back to them, any way he could.  
  
They would honor Aragorn in the manner befitting a man such as he. Though only a few days passed since their original meeting with Ardeth, Gimli's initial suspicion melted away. Did he trust the lad? Nay, not entirely. He trusted the boy not to betray them. . .he trusted Ardeth to bring Aragorn back to them, one way or another. But he had not the trust for the lad, the sort of trust which Legolas and Aragorn received.  
  
And that was as it should be. On the other hand, Gimli was certain that by the time Ardeth returned home, it was likely that the boy would go through as much with them, as the remaining trio did with the remaining trio as the other members of the Fellowship. Trio. _No, not any more. Accept it, you foolish dwarf_!  
  
Trio. . .there were only the two of them left now. Himself and Legolas, for they knew not if they would ever see Gandalf again. Gimli had to admit, however, that Gandalf supposedly died twice already. First when he learned of Saruman's treachery, then during the confrontation with the Balrog in Kha-za-dum. Twas not so easy to kill Master Gandalf, it would seem, and for that, they were fortunate. But, he was a wizard and Aragorn a man.  
  
A wise man, aye, and a strong man. But that was a long drop, and the orc's words echoed mockingly in his ears, '_He took a little tumble_.' A little tumble indeed. . .after hearing those words, Gimli was tempted to **prolong** the orc's suffering a little longer! Gimli couldn't decide what angered him more. . .the loss of his friend, or that the orcs attacked a group of women and children, old men and peasants.  
  
Gimli knew better than to expect fair play or honor from Sauron and Saruman. Such things were beyond their ken. But it angered him, nonetheless. He grew rather fond of several members of the caravan, including Lady Eowyn. Lady Eowyn. Gimli stilled on his horse, even as Helms Deep came into sight. In some ways, it reminded him of the statues of Amon Hen, making his heart ache all the more. Boromir fell at Amon Hen. The halflings were taken from Amon Hen. Boromir. Aragorn.  
  
Legolas whispered, "We should have never left him." Gimli was uncertain if he meant Aragorn or Ardeth, and either way, it didn't matter. They cantered inside the great fortress, which was impressive to be sure. However, Gimli didn't like fighting with his back to the wall. There was no place to go. The dwarf's blood ran cold as he saw a familiar figure appear in front of the king as he dismounted.  
  
He was not looking forward to this. But Gimli was fond of Lady Eowyn, and noticed the way she looked at Aragorn. He heard her say to the king, "So few. . .so few have returned." The king answered, his voice heavy with regret, that the people of Rohan were safe. . . but they paid for that safety with many lives. Legolas eased him to the ground, disappearing to the Valar only knew where.  
  
Leaving Gimli with the ever-so-unpleasant task of telling Lady Eowyn about Aragorn's fate. He thought he had the grief under control. He thought he would be strong enough to tell her what happened, and bear her grief as well as his own. But as he approached her, the words flew right out of his head. Instead, he managed to choke out, "My Lady." Lady Eowyn turned to face him.  
  
She could see it in his eyes. He knew she could see it. But she asked nonetheless, "Lord Aragorn? Where is he?" _Steady now, Gimli. You can do this. If you can become friends with an elf, then you can tell this poor girl that she would likely never see Aragorn again._ Or so Gimli kept telling himself, hoping that he could do just that.  
  
Instead, tears which he kept forcing back formed a lump in his throat as he answered, "He fell." Just those two words, and Gimli, son of Gloin, could say no more. He hadn't the strength he believed he had.  
  
He didn't have the strength to deal with his own grief or face Eowyn's grief. He could barely look into the eyes of the young shieldmaiden, before he went off in search of Legolas. But before he could do that, Lady Eowyn asked, her voice trembling, "And what of Ardeth? Is he. . .did he. . .?" She couldn't even finish the sentence. _Poor lass_. Gimli turned back to face her more fully, because it was the right thing to do.  
  
"Ardeth is trying to find Aragorn's body," he replied, giving her a gruff nod. Lady Eowyn nodded her thanks, though Gimli could tell she was badly rattled by the news. He wished he had the words that would ease her sorrow, but he could not ease his own. How could he begin to ease hers? She had not the memories of Aragorn that Gimli and Legolas had. Thus, the dwarf left the shattered Lady, and went in search of his remaining friend. Perhaps he and Legolas could find solace together, for Gimli realized now that Eomer was right. Hope abandoned Rohan long ago.  
  
. . .  
  
Arwen, daughter of Elrond and Celebrian, sensed something was amiss at the moment her beloved Aragorn fell over the cliff during the battle with the warg. However, it was not until a strange man appeared in her quarters that Arwen realized just how dire the situation was. The raven-haired elf was formulating plans and ideas, ways to convince her father that her place was here, not on the ship for the Undying Lands.  
  
It wasn't that she didn't miss her mother. . .she did. But unlike her father, Arwen still had hope. And she believed in Estel, believed that he and the Fellowship would succeed in their quest. As angry as she was with him, for giving into her father, she still loved Estel. Still loved him, still believed in him. And perhaps, too, forgiving him came easily because her father raised Estel. Whether he acknowledged it or not, the rift between them hurt her beloved.  
  
Besides, Arwen no more wished to hurt her father than she wished to hurt Estel, or Estel wished to hurt her father. Or Arwen. She was angry with both of the men in her life. Honestly, what kind of a fool did they take her for? Did they truly think she was incapable of making up her own mind, did they think that they had to make her decisions for her! Arwen's bright eyes narrowed with a quiet fury.  
  
"Tis a common failing, my Lady, particularly among men. No matter what their age, no matter what era, we think we must protect the women we love by making choices for them," an unfamiliar voice said. Arwen whipped around to face the newcomer, her eyes flying to the window. No, he didn't come through the window, and she _knew_ he didn't come through the door. She would have heard him.  
  
The man raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture, adding, "Please do not be afraid, my Lady. I come not to harm you. . .indeed, it is impossible for me to do so." Arwen didn't relax, her eyes never leaving the newcomer. The man sighed, saying, "My name is Seti, once ruler and living god of Egypt, and I cannot harm you because I no longer inhabit the world of the living. That is why it is possible for me to be here."  
  
"Then why are you here?" Arwen asked. She paused, then continued with a frown, "And why is that? Why do you believe you have the right, nay, the **responsibility**, to make our choices for us, and then tell us that the choices you make for us are made out of love? How can you love someone, and think so little of them? I am almost three thousand years old, I am hardly a child, unable to comprehend the consequences of my actions!"  
  
"I understand, my Lady. I will answer that question first. Your father loves you dearly, and it breaks the heart of any parent, to consider losing their child. Tis hard enough to let go, when they marry and have a family of their own. But losing a child to death? I have experienced that, my Lady Arwen, and it is not a pain I would wish on even my worst enemy. No, the young woman who died was not created from my loins, but she was my daughter in every way that mattered," the man called 'Seti' explained.  
  
Much as Arwen hated to admit it, that made sense to her. Sensing this, the man continued, "As to why I am here. . .I am here on behalf of someone whom I love. My son Ardeth was brought to this world, to this time, against his will by Saruman the Sorceror. He travels with the remnants of the Fellowship. . .Gimli the dwarf and Legolas the elf. And now, he is in search of your Aragorn. I require your aid, my Lady, for Ardeth knows not this land. He needs help, if he is to find Aragorn in time."  
  
His son was brought here from another time? Seti must have heard what she was thinking, for he explained, "You see, my Lady, my son comes from thirty thousand years in the future. . .give or take a few centuries. The year is 2001, in what is known as Anno Domini or the Common Era. Saruman the Deceiver brought him to this time, intending to make him his general, a mirror in darkness to your Aragorn. He failed. Quite miserably, I should add."  
  
Now, Seti was smiling almost impishly, and Arwen asked slowly, "And what is it that you require of me? I would gladly give my aid to your son, Lord Seti, but how do you wish me to do that?" She sat down on her bed, eyeing at her ghostly visitor with interest. She wished her grandmother was here. . .or her mother. In all her life, Arwen never encountered something like this, and she was feeling her way in the dark.  
  
"What I ask is simple, my Lady. I wish you to go to Aragorn. I will boost your signal, so to speak, so that it is possible for my son to find you. . .and in so doing, he will also find your Aragorn. Hopefully alive," Seti replied. Arwen raised her eyebrows inquisitively. Boost. . . her signal? Perhaps she didn't wish to know what that meant. Seti explained, sounding more than a little sheepish, "I am not being insulting, my Lady, at least, that is not my intention. Rather, I am merely using terms I've heard used by my son and others. I am no longer an inhabitant of the world of the Living and that gives me certain abilities."  
  
He paused, looked at her a bit strangely, then added, "And did you not give up your grace, your magick, to save the young halfling, Frodo Baggins? To at least buy him time, until you could reach Rivendell and your father? You will require aid, my Lady, and it is for that reason I am here. I can reach my son. . .all that is necessary is that you reach out to your Aragorn. Even now, Ardeth is seeking a way down the cliff to search the riverbank."  
  
"And why would you care, whether Aragorn lives or dies?" Arwen challenged. She wanted to know why this man would offer to help her, for that was what it truly was. He was offering to help her, and Arwen wanted to know why. She fully intended to accept that offer. But before she did, she wanted to know why he was doing this. How would helping Aragorn benefit his son?  
  
"Because he saved my son's life, Lady Arwen. Because I have seen far too many young men die, and far too many great leaders cut down before they truly had a chance to serve their people," Seti answered bluntly. Well, that certainly was honest! But he wasn't finished. Seti went on, "My son was badly injured when he first reached this time, my Lady. He has not yet fully recovered, and still, he searches for your betrothed. I would see no more harm come to him. If you desire, I will show my son to you, my son and his family."  
  
Arwen was on the point of asking why he would do this, when something occurred to her. She asked slowly, "And if I do this thing. . .will your son see me? He knows me not, save in Aragorn's memories, if he has shared that with your son." Seti's smile broadened. He already had an answer to her question. And that was why he told her that he would show his son's family to her.  
  
"Niy. Your Aragorn will see you. . .but my Ardeth will see his wife, his queen. His Inara, he calls her," Seti replied. _Inara_? The man continued, "It means 'ray of light' or 'heaven-sent.' Your dwarf friend Gimli was quite taken with my daughter-in-law. . .told Ardeth that among the dwarves, Celia would be considered a goddess. Although, perhaps that is because like you, my daughter-in-law lacks a beard."  
  
Arwen surprised herself and her guest by laughing outright. She covered her mouth with her hand, saying, "Very well, then, you have my agreement. I shall work with you. For the sooner Ardeth reaches Aragorn, the better things will be for them both." Even now, she could feel Aragorn slowly losing his grip on life. She knew how tired he was, and how he struggled to keep moving forward.  
  
Her Aragorn was an honorable man. It wasn't in him to simply give up, no matter how much he doubted the strength of his own blood. If that was the case, he would have given up many, many years earlier. Aragorn chose exile and being a Ranger. . .he did not choose death. Seti said softly, "A few moments ago, you asked me why your father and Aragorn sought to control your destiny, in the name of love. I answered the question for your father. Perhaps this will aid your understanding of Aragorn. Two years ago, when Ardeth first met Celia and fell in love with her, he denied it at first. He could never put her first, which grieved him. And he believed that to acknowledge his love to her would have been selfish."  
  
A harsh, bitter laugh escaped her companion as he added, "Selfish. No, I could have given my son lessons in selfishness. He believed that he was doing the selfless thing by denying his love for Celia, for it could never end well. His sister Evelyn talked sense into him. She made him see that by denying his love for Celia, and taking the choice from her hands, he would be doing something far more selfish than allowing her into his heart, into his life."  
  
Again, Seti paused, then he said, "It was never easy, my Lady Arwen. But they love each other, and I mean to see Ardeth returned to Celia and their children. I fear my daughter-in-law will have need of him before the year is out. . .and in a way she has never needed him before. None of this can happen if we do not save them both now. Will you take my hand, Lady Arwen, and together, we can light my son's path?"  
  
The decision was already made. Arwen, daughter of Elrond and Celebrian, granddaughter of Celeborn and Galadriel, stepped forward, thus closing the distance between herself and her guest. She put her hand in his, somewhat surprised to find it solid and warm. The elven lady known as '_Evenstar_' replied, her eyes locked on Seti's, "I agree, Seti of Egypt. Let us light the darkness together."  
  
. . .  
  
Once he made a decision, Ardeth Bey rarely gave into regret. Even in a case like this, when it was possibly not the wisest choice he ever made. In the long hours of descending the cliff, then following the river, the stitch in Ardeth's side grew. He was tired, his entire body hurt, and it was growing chilly. No, certainly not the wisest choice he ever made, especially since he didn't even know this land.  
  
Would he have done it again? Would he do it again? Without a second thought. Ardeth knew, he knew that Theoden needed Legolas and Gimli at Helms Deep. They knew this land, and even these people, far better than he did. Yes. . .Theoden needed the elven prince and the dwarf lord. Just as Legolas and Gimli needed Aragorn. That was why he was here. . .even if he was tired, even if he was in pain, even if he was cold. He had to find Aragorn.  
  
Besides, looking back over his life, it certainly wasn't the most foolhardy decision he ever made. Or the most dangerous. Ardeth smiled faintly, remembering his very first decision to risk his life. He was. . .how old? Ten, or eleven? Yes, that sounded right. He was no more than eleven years old when his father's best friend, Sneferu, turned traitor and abducted him. They told the Med-jai a half-truth, that Sneferu kidnapped Ardeth to force Suleiman into helping him raise the Creature. . .to raise Imhotep. There was actually far more to it than that. Raising Imhotep was intended as. . .what was the phrase? Oh yes. A consolation prize.  
  
Ardeth was actually intended as a sacrifice. He never fully understood the reason for that, but he did know the sacrifice failed. Whatever god Sneferu was trying to raise or draw the attention of, had no interest in a fallen Med-jai. . .or a Med-jai prince, for that matter. Ardeth smiled without real humor. That was exactly the way Sneferu phrased it. '_I bring unto you a child, a prince of the desert, a Med-jai prince, as an offering_.'  
  
That was the only thing Ardeth really remembered of the sacrifice. He heard that word, and his small body froze in horror. He was fighting earlier to free himself, but that struggle was heightened now. He was a frightened little boy, trying desperately to be brave. Those attempts at escape pushed the already-insane Sneferu over the edge. He turned the knife on Ardeth's body, inflicting cuts on his flesh.  
  
Ardeth was already bruised and battered from the abduction. He became more so from the falling debris. Now that was something he never noticed before. Where were they? An abandoned temple. That was why it was so easy for his father to find him. . .Sneferu took Ardeth to the first place Suleiman would look, to a temple that Suleiman knew Sneferu frequented, as his patrols took him past it.  
  
His father jumped Sneferu and knocked him unconscious, dodging the falling pieces of masonry, to reach Ardeth and untie him. Ardeth, weak from blood loss, asked his father about the shaking, and Suleiman. . .told him that the Med-jai set explosives around the temple. Yet, when they reached the outside of the temple, there was no one else there. Ardeth didn't really think much about that. . .he was too focused on holding on.  
  
Suleiman traveled to an nearby oasis, where he could bathe Ardeth's cuts and see to his other injuries. Unfortunately, the same knowing that allowed Suleiman to reach the temple to save his son now worked against him. . .for the oasis where Suleiman took sanctuary with his injured little boy was also known to Sneferu, and the traitor attacked the following morning as Suleiman was loading their gear back onto his horse.  
  
What transpired over the next five minutes remained sketchy to Ardeth even now, twenty years later. The only thing he remembered clearly was knowing that his father was in danger, and he had to do something to help. The little boy dragged himself to his father's pack, where he kept his favorite pistol. Through a haze of pain and dizziness, Ardeth checked to make sure it was loaded. He took the safety off. Pointed it at his tormentor and his father's attacker. And then he fired the weapon.  
  
He lost consciousness after that. As the gun kicked in his small hand, pain exploded through his already battered body. The recoil sent shooting pains up his arm. He never used a pistol before, or a rifle. . . only saw them fired. And for a time, he was aware of nothing. For a time, there was only peace for the battered little boy. That peace didn't last long. All too soon, he found himself hurting once more. When he woke up, his father was sobbing his name and rocking him as if Ardeth was still a very little boy. Seeing Ardeth awake, Suleiman composed himself, then whispered, "Shukran, my Ardeth. You saved my life. Again. Now, let us get you home, so the Med-jai may celebrate your bravery."  
  
Ardeth didn't know how brave he was, or whether he deserved to be celebrated, but heading home sounded very good. He managed a weak smile for his father, which caused fresh tears to roll down the great chieftain's face. Ardeth reached up to touch the wetness on his father's cheek, whispering, "Do not cry, Papa. . .please, I will be more careful next time, I promise." He almost cried out when his father pulled him close, his embrace tightening.  
  
But he did not cry out. That eleven year old Ardeth was determined to be as brave as his father said he was. Looking back now, more than twenty years later, the grown Ardeth understood a great deal more about his father. He tried to imagine being in his father's position, and hearing Andreas apologize for 'not being more careful.' That thought was enough to bring a lump to his throat.  
  
He tried to shake off those memories then, before he began to think overmuch about his son. If he allowed himself to think about Andreas, he would inevitably start to think about his daughter, and about the mother of his children. He would start to miss them, and the demons held off inside his soul would win. To say nothing of the demons called the 'Uruk-hai.' No. He had to stay focused, if he wanted to live and if he wanted to find Aragorn.  
  
Except, as he cantered alongside the riverbank, his eye was caught something familiar, yet out of place. Ardeth looked again. . .and caught his breath. This could not be! He shook his head almost desperately, then closed his eyes, trying to banish the image. The mirage, for it could be nothing else. He opened his eyes. . .only to find his wife smiling at him, the faint little smile she always wore when she knew what he was thinking, even if he didn't want her to know.  
  
Her hair was loose, and she was dressed as she always did for a meeting with the Elders. It was a habit she adopted after a conversation with Anck-su-namun about dressing the part. Ardeth was never entirely sure what that meant, until the first time he saw her in those robes since their wedding. Dressing the part. . .she was reminding the Elders that while she wasn't on the Council, she was still Ardeth's wife, and would remain so.  
  
His eyes traveled down her body, remembering how she fretted about losing weight after Andreas was born. As if she could be anything less than beautiful to him? Why did she persist in seeing herself as less than attractive? When she wasn't concerned about her weight, she was insecure about her bosom, saying in one of her more crude moments that she didn't have breasts, but infected mosquito bites on her chest. Anck-su-namun quietly observed to Ardeth that she only said such things after being around O'Connell for extended periods of time.  
  
So shocked was he to see his wife's form in front of him, he almost neglected to see that there was something at her feet. With an effort that felt superhuman to him, Ardeth tore his eyes away from his wife. . .and saw Aragorn lying there. He was floating on his back in what seemed to be shallow water. Ardeth couldn't tell if he was breathing or not. Celia smiled at him one last time. . .and then faded away.  
  
_A mirage. A hallucination. . .or the hand of the gods_. That was little comfort to Ardeth, who wanted to cry out in anguish and grief as she disappeared. Just a trick of his eyes. . .a trick of his eyes that led him to Aragorn. And it was that thought which saved his sanity. Ardeth dismounted his horse painfully and led the animal over to the man. . .who was alive. Unconscious. . .or half-conscious. . .but alive. His gray eyes focused on Ardeth briefly as he breathed, "Arwen." Ardeth knew Arwen was Aragorn's elven Lady, and the Med-jai doubted that it was a coincidence. . .he saw Celia as Aragorn saw Arwen.  
  
"Not Arwen, my friend," Ardeth whispered as he grabbed Aragorn under his arms and tried not to wince at the pain in his side, or Aragorn's groan, "only Ardeth. Would that I could take you to your Arwen, but we are needed at Helms Deep." Aragorn lifted his head, observing Ardeth through hazy eyes, but as Ardeth steered him to the horse, he grasped the poor animal's mane and pulled himself into the saddle. Ardeth mounted behind him, allowing Aragorn to lean on him, as Ardeth leaned on him during their journey to Edoras.  
  
As they headed for Helms Deep, Ardeth couldn't help looking back at the place where he saw Celia. Only now, he saw not his wife, but a breathtakingly beautiful young woman. There was one other. . . another familiar face that did not belong. Seti I, Pharaoh of Upper and Lower Egypt, father of Rameses and Nefertiri, smiled at him. Inside his mind, Ardeth could see his once father whisper, _I am here, my son. . .and I will be watching over you.  
_  
. . .  
  
"He saw us."  
  
"Of course he saw us. . .I meant for him to see us. Did you not feel his grief when he no longer saw his wife? He needed to know that I was still here, that I would not leave him," Seti answered. He released Arwen's hand, sighing, "I left him too many times already. He needs to know that he is not alone in this ever-so-strange world of yours. Ardeth comes from the desert, my Lady Arwen. . .these greenery is alien to him."  
  
Arwen said nothing as she sat down on her bed. Seti stood before her, explaining softly, "You see, child. . .Ardeth was not born of my loins. He is the reincarnation of my son, Rameses. When my son was twenty-two years old, he fell in love with a young concubine, a girl who was raised by Hebrew slaves after her own parents were killed in a shipwreck. Lady Ardath, she was called. . .Lady, a title given to her when she became a concubine. Ardath, because she was found in a field of flowers."  
  
Arwen raised her eyes to look at him. Seti went on, "She loved him, as well. I grew to love her, because of that. Because he loved her, because she loved him, because she could make him smile, make him laugh. And they were happy."  
  
So strange. Even after three thousand years, the terrible night about which he would tell Arwen still hurt more than the memory of Imhotep and Anck-su-namun's betrayal. He could accept their hatred of him. Ardath and Miriam were another story. Seti continued, "When Ardath was sixteen, she learned she was pregnant. Rameses had many concubines, and many wives, and he had children from those women. But I never saw him as excited as he was when he learned that he would have a child with Ardath."  
  
"What happened?" Arwen asked, as if afraid of what she would hear. Seti didn't answer. He was trying to remember everything that happened. So much of it was a blur, perhaps because he wished it to be a blur. The only thing that stood out was Ardath's scream as she was pushed from the balcony, the awful thud her body made as she hit the floor, and the pain and terror etched into her young face.  
  
"In her fifth month, Ardath was walking along the balconies as she enjoyed. She was always like that, you see. Rarely a participant, preferring to observe. It was her way of protecting herself, I think. Usually. On this day, however. . .on this day, she saw an assassination attempt against me unfolding. Ardath, while quiet and not one for court intrigue, was also not someone who could stand by and do nothing.  
  
"She cried out a warning to me. My Med-jai, my bodyguards, reacted instantly. They saved me. However, unbeknownst to my daughter, one of the assasins was hiding in the shadows. He shoved her over the balcony, and she fell. Imhotep did all he could to save my granddaughter. . .but it was too soon. He was fortunate indeed to save Ardath. I loved her, you understand. And if I was wiser, I would have arranged a marriage between Ardath and Rameses that very day. She saved my life, and lost her child. She deserved. . .she deserved better," Seti answered, the memories choking him as the images became all too clear.  
  
He turned to look at Arwen more fully and said, "And do you know what made me angriest of all? One of my concubines. . .Aoife. I heard her tell one of the other concubines that Ardath had only herself to blame for her daughter's death. If she but kept her mouth shut and let me die. . ." Seti couldn't finish the sentence. Gods, even after three thousand years, the memory of her treachery sickened him.  
  
And Arwen's lovely face was stricken with horror. Seti smiled, a half-smile that he knew never reached his eyes, and said, "Unfortunately for Aoife, Ardath's best friend, my concubine Anck-su-namun, also heard her. She left Ardath one afternoon, while my daughter slept. She made sure that Ardath was not alone. . .that Rameses or Imhotep was nearby. And then she found Aoife and beat her. Once she was finished, and Aoife was but a sobbing mess at her feet, Anck-su-namun sneered, '_it is your own fault. If you had but kept your mouth shut, this would have never happened_.' And then she walked away."  
  
Arwen was silent for several moments, then said, "So. . .you call Ardeth your son, because he is the reincarnation of your son? And his wife. . .Celia. . .is she Ardath's reincarnation? And their names. . ." Seti smiled at the young elf, pleased that she noticed it. Of course, it was rather obvious.  
  
Rameses named his son after his concubine, but there were many who did not notice the similarities. He replied, "One is a variation of the other. Ardath became pregnant once more, when she was twenty and Rameses twenty-seven. About two months before she turned twenty-one, she was safely delivered of a baby boy. There was much rejoicing in my palace, and though I could never acknowledge Ardath as a princess, as she deserved, I threw a banquet to celebrate my grandson's birth."  
  
Arwen smiled, a smile that died as Seti explained, "Unfortunately, there was an asp at our dinner. My nephew, Khaldun, who was ever jealous of Rameses. In an attempt to kill my son, he had a goblet of wine poisoned. Rameses did not drink the poisoned wine. Ardath, still recovering her strength after giving birth, did. And she died in my son's arms. Rameses was devastated. What he did next. . . well, I will not say it is unimportant, for it is not. But he chose to name his son, Ardath's last gift to him, after that lovely girl. After his mother."  
  
"And the name was handed down through the years," Arwen mused softly. Seti inclined his head. Arwen went on, "Is it unusual, among your people, for a father to name a son after a mother? I am not entirely familiar with the naming practices of Men in our world, but I do know it differs somewhat from ours." She paused, lowering her eyes, but Seti knew why she asked. When he announced that he would marry Anck-su-namun, he often thought about the children he might have with his new queen. He even thought about making her a God's Wife.  
  
Unfortunately, it never occurred to him to ask her what she wanted. He was Pharaoh. But perhaps if he thought of such things. . . his world might have been a very different one. Seti replied slowly, "Niy. I have heard, among Westerners, that sons are named for fathers, and daughters are named for mothers and for fathers. But never have I heard of a son being named for a mother. Until my grandson was born, and my daughter was murdered."  
  
"Tell me something, Seti of Egypt," Arwen asked after a long silence, "tell me what your son Rameses would have done? If he knew prior to the attack, about Khaldun's plan to kill him, would he have sought to protect Ardath? Would he have sent her away, for her 'own good,' or would he have allowed her to make such a choice for herself?" She kept returning to this topic, but Seti could hardly blame her.  
  
Her father and the man she loved were making decisions for her future, in the name of love. But one thing Seti learned during the last three thousand years, and something he wished he could tell Elrond of Rivendell. If he persisted with this, even if he succeeded in convincing his daughter to leave for the Undying Lands. . .there was a good chance she might never forgive him. Elrond might not believe him. . . he probably would not.  
  
At last, Seti replied, "Rameses could never keep a secret from Ardath. He could always keep military strategies to himself, and he could take any other secret to his very grave. But he could never keep anything from Ardath. She. . .she had a way of looking at him, he once told me, as if she could see into his very heart. He would have told her. . .and she would have made her own decision. If he tried to act counter to her wishes, she would have never forgiven him." Nor would she have forgiven Anck-su-namun, who would have also tried to send her away.  
  
"I see," Arwen replied. Seti longed to tell her to stay her course, not to allow her father to convince her to leave. And he would. Seti knew that. He was a father himself, and a father's desire was to protect his child. It was for this reason that Rameses gave Ardeth to Shakir to raise. It was the only way he could protect his son, though there were many in the palace who knew the little boy was Seti's grandson. He was also a child of the Med-jai now.  
  
Elrond was an elf, and had lived far longer than Seti. He likely had weapons in his arsenal that never even occurred to the pharaoh's ghost. But in the end, the only one who could decide if she would go or stay was Arwen. However, there was one last thing he could give her. Seti told her, "In my world, when a person is undecided about their course, they sometimes ask for a sign. Something you may wish to recall. . .no matter what decision you make."  
  
Arwen inclined her head in understanding. She seemed to know he was bidding her farewell. Seti stepped back, preparing himself to return to Ardeth's side, when Arwen said quietly, "Seti of Egypt. You have spoken repeatedly about your failure to your daughter, when you would not give permission for Rameses to marry her. You have spoken of your betrayal. Did you never consider that you may have extended her life?"  
  
Seti frowned. _What_? Arwen explained, her eyes never leaving his face, "If you permitted them to wed, would she have been in graver danger as a princess, than she was as a concubine?" Seti lowered his eyes, thinking that through. It was something that he never considered, in truth. A soft hand touched his, and Seti looked up again. Arwen said gently, "Forgive yourself, Seti. . .I believe Ardath forgave you a long time ago."  
  
There was no way to answer that, and so, Seti said in a husky voice, "Farewell, Arwen Undomiel. May your gods guide Aragorn safely back to you and those who love him most." He bowed his head, and with just a thought, he left Rivendell, also called Imladris. But Arwen's words echoed in his mind. Ardath's murder had set off a chain of events, a domino effect, as Seti heard Celia call it. Her murder also influenced his choice to take Anck-su-namun as a wife. He did not wish to make the same mistake twice. Instead, his choice led to the end of his own life. He could do nothing of the past. But perhaps Arwen was right. Perhaps it was time he forgave himself. . . especially if his daughter forgave him long ago.  
  
. . .  
  
Aragorn dreamed of Arwen. He dreamed that she came to him, after he fell from the cliff, and kissed him. He dreamed that she breathed life back into him. But as he slowly woke up, and felt the strain in the arms holding him upright, Aragorn blearily realized that while Arwen may have breathed life into him, she did not get him on the horse he now rode.  
  
A soft curse. . .at least, Aragorn believed it was a curse, given the venom in the voice behind him. . .drew his attention, then that voice said, "Please do not squirm, Aragorn, it is difficult enough to hold you upright and guide the horse." A half-dozen pains made themselves known in Aragorn's body, but he managed to focus on the owner of the voice. He knew the owner of the voice. Ardeth. No, that could not be right. Ardeth was still badly-injured, and he barely knew this world.  
  
Still, he asked, wanting to hear with his own ears, "Ardeth?" There was a soft laugh behind him, followed by a sound of pain. The self-exiled king asked, "What are you doing here? Why are you not at Helms Deep? What happened to the others?" His aching body protested the amount of air he used while asking that question, and Aragorn spent the next several moments working through the pain.  
  
At last, Ardeth replied, "I am doing what Legolas and Gimli wished to do. . .I swore to them that if you were dead, I would retrieve your body. And if you were alive, I would bring you back to them. There were others who were killed, but Legolas and Gimli were not among them. Nor was King Theoden. I am not at Helms Deep because I was not needed there. I was needed here." Which answered all of Aragorn's questions.  
  
He was silent for several moments, then said quietly, "I dreamed of Arwen. I dreamed that she came to me. When you found me. . ." His voice trailed off, and he found he couldn't finish his sentence. However, it gave rise to another question. Turning his head as much as he was able, Aragorn asked, "How did you find me, Ardeth? You are not familiar with Middle Earth, much less with Rohan."  
  
"La. . .but this horse is. This horse knows Rohan well. He knew how to get down to the river. And once I reached the river. . .your Arwen guided me here. Your Arwen, and my distant ancestor, Seti. They. . .I saw Celia at first. My wife. I couldn't believe my eyes. She was here. And then I noticed that she was directing me to look down. That's when I found you. When I looked up again. . .she was gone," Ardeth replied.  
  
The words were simple, but the pain in his voice told Aragorn the rest of the story. He said simply, "I am sorry." Silence fell between the two men once more and Aragorn closed his eyes. He was so tired. He ached all over. But he didn't allow himself to relax against Ardeth. Instead, he slumped forward against the horse's neck, wanting to spare his 'little brother' the added weight of his body.  
  
Aragorn slept for a time. He wasn't entirely sure how long, but it wasn't long enough. A hand on his shoulder awakened him, and Aragorn sat up. Ardeth asked, his voice hoarse with an emotion Aragorn didn't recognize, "Aragorn? _What. . .is. . .that_?" Aragorn turned his head, and his blood ran cold. It was then that he recognized the tone in Ardeth's voice. It was fear, the same fear now coursing through Aragorn's voice.  
  
"Uruk-hai. Legions of them," he replied, his voice still not as strong as he would have liked. His voice, his body. . .he feared he would not have the strength he needed. But he turned in the saddle to face Ardeth, adding, "I would say at least ten thousand, and quite possibly more." Ardeth swallowed hard, his dark eyes shifting over the Uruk-hai. Aragorn said softly, "Ardeth, this is not your fight. No one will fault you for resting tonight, not after everything you have done." The younger man's eyes snapped back to him, and the fear was replaced with anger.  
  
"I am afraid, yes. I would be a fool if I was not. But I am also not a coward. I swore that I would stand with you and the others. I promised Gandalf. I do not betray my friends, nor do I break my promises," Ardeth replied, his voice almost cold as he glared at Aragorn. It occurred to the Ranger that perhaps he would be wise to back off. Ardeth was taller than he, after all, and perhaps a bit stronger at the moment.  
  
"You have already done your share here, Ardeth Bey. . .but you have also made your choice. I will not speak of it again. Come. We must warn Theoden and the defenders. It will not be long before the enemy reaches Helms Deep," Aragorn replied. Ardeth inclined his head, and kicked the horse forward. Though the animal carried two men, it moved quickly across the hills and plains of Rohan, and at last, the fortress of Helms Deep could be seen.  
  
Ardeth whispered something that Aragorn didn't understand, nor did he ask him to repeat himself. It wasn't that important. Instead, the ranger said quietly, "Helms Deep, the great fortress of Rohan. You have done well, Ardeth. Now let us go, greet our friends, and make our preparations." Ardeth merely breathed, '_aywa_,' and they started for the fortress once more. Aragorn realized the younger man was fading fast. Their destination was in sight, and he would likely collapse once they were safely inside.  
  
Aragorn would give orders that he was not to be disturbed until the hour of the final confrontation came. He could let Ardeth sleep. . . but he suspected his proposed mirror in darkness would never forgive him. They cantered into the fortress, cheers and shouts greeting them. Word of their return reached the fortress, it would seem. As Aragorn dismounted, quietly murmuring to one of the soldiers to help Ardeth down, a familiar voice bellowed, "Where is he? Where is he, I'll kill him!"  
  
Gimli pushed his way through the soldiers and others, his eyes lighting up when he saw Aragorn. The ranger could only guess at how awful he looked. He felt awful. But he couldn't help but smile when the dwarf threw his arms around him, crying, "You're the canniest, most reckless man I've ever met. Bless you, laddie, bless you!" Aragorn smiled wearily as he patted Gimli's shoulder.  
  
Fortunately, the dwarf released him and moved onto Ardeth, stepping into the poor young man's path, crying out, "And _you_!" Aragorn turned as Ardeth looked up at him almost pleadingly. He said not a word, but his eyes pleaded with Aragorn, '_help!_' Especially after Gimli threw his arms around Ardeth's waist, ignoring the soft groan of pain that elicited, and added, "You well deserve to be Aragorn's younger brother. Thank you, laddie, for bringing him back to us!" Aragorn met Ardeth's eyes with a smirk. . .he was on his own. Ardeth glowered at him, but patted Gimli's shoulder, not knowing what else to do.  
  
Aragorn smirked again. Gimli was now announcing that the first man who implied Ardeth was a tool of Sauron's would have to answer to him. Convinced that their new friend was in good hands, Aragorn turned back, to come face to face with Legolas. The elf looked at him, not looking surprised at all that he was alive. This was borne out a moment later, when Legolas said in Elvish, "You're late." Aragorn raised his eyebrows questioningly at his friend, especially when Legolas continued, looking him over in concern, "You look terrible."  
  
Then he smiled, pressing something into Aragorn's hand. Something hard, something that should have been cold, but was warm to the touch. Disbelieving, Aragorn opened his hand to see the Evenstar glittering up at him. He swallowed hard. It was not lost to him forever. Somehow, Legolas found it after it was torn from his neck. Found it, and held it. Kept it for him, when he returned. He said softly, "Thank you." Legolas inclined his head, and Aragorn continued, "Where is the king?"  
  
Legolas was on the point of answering, when Gimli grunted suddenly and said, "I could use a little help here!" Legolas moved immediately to his side, and Aragorn turned to see Ardeth struggling to remain upright. Legolas took some of the chieftain's weight, and Gimli said, "Go see the king, lad. We'll take care of Ardeth." Aragorn looked from one friend to another, then nodded. There was much Theoden needed to know.  
  
. . .  
  
_Well, that worked well_. Ardeth and Aragorn were safely back in Helms Deep. Gimli and Legolas were taking care of their wounded friend, while Aragorn was on his way to brief the king. Seti stayed in Middle Earth just long enough to watch the exhausted ranger push the great doors open to the king's chamber, then retreated briefly. He could stay in Middle Earth until Ardeth came home. . .but there was something he needed to do.  
  
The first place he went when returning to the time of his reincarnated son was the boy's house. Celia didn't sleep well the night before, and was now asleep in the bed she shared with Ardeth. Andreas, Miranda, and little Nefertiri were all huddled around her, and Anck-su-namun was never far from her side. Though she, like Seti, lacked a corporeal body, she nonetheless sat in a chair not far from the bed.  
  
And. . .it almost looked like she was checking email. But that was impossible. Anck-su-namun not only lacked a corporeal body, she didn't have an email address. It was physically impossible for her to check her email, because she had no email! He was half-right, he discovered. She did not have email. . .but she could manipulate the computer system. The ghost in the machine, as Seti heard from time to time.  
  
And she was checking Ardeth's email! Seti said in obvious shock, "Anck-su-namun!" She whirled around to face him, her long hair slapping at her face and neck. His former concubine looked at him guiltily, and Seti continued, "What are you doing!" Anck glared at him and looked over at Celia, shushing him before he could wake her forever friend, or the children for that matter.  
  
"I was seeing if there was any news of Anatol. You know, I believe it was Celia who actually chose Ardeth's email address. It has her mark on it, so to speak. Ardeth would have chosen something like 'ardeth-beymedjai.net.' Something simple and to the point. Instead, you know what it is? 'Reborn-princemedjai.net.' Of course that wasn't Ardeth's choice," Anck said in ancient Egyptian, "it has Celia written all over it!"  
  
Seti tended to agree. Ardeth was now a chieftain, a king of an entire nation of tribes. What reason would he have to use 'reborn-prince,' when in truth, he was also a reborn pharaoh? The answer came almost immediately. Because Rameses was still a prince when he loved Ardath and when she was taken from him. Seti asked, still mulling over Arwen's words to him, "And what is Celia's email address?"  
  
Here, Anck grinned impishly and answered, "LadyInaramedjai.net. You know, of course, that 'Inara' is one of Ardeth's nicknames for her." Yes, one of the few that could be repeated in public, with small children around. Anck added thoughtfully, "Then again, it is just as well that Celia chose Ardeth's email address. . .were it left to Anatol, it would be the Arabic equivalent of 'the big boss.' Or something similar."  
  
Seti roared with laughter, then looked over at Celia and the children guiltily. However, he realized they were still asleep. He knew Anck was quite correct, though. Were it up to the somewhat irreverent younger brother of the chieftain, Ardeth's email (user id?) would have been something that, in the eyes of the young Med-jai, indicated his brother's status. Ardeth would have none of that. . .they knew his status. Why bring attention to it?  
  
After a moment, he brought his attention back to the topic at hand and asked, "Has there been any word from young Anatol?" Anck nodded, frowning thoughtfully. Seti realized why. She was trying to indicate to the system that the emails were not read, despite what it was saying. She wished to leave no trace of her manipulation of the computer network. He knew not if such an attempt would succeed.  
  
"Tiyu. He emailed Ardeth the day Ardeth returned from chasing down the bandit. Anatol wanted his brother to know that the traitor's allies were wiped out, save one. And he seems to have information that Anatol believes is important. I do not understand much of this, Pharaoh. So much of the language he uses is cryptic," the former concubine replied, glancing over her shoulder at the forms on the bed.  
  
"He does not trust even the Med-jai computer network. . . fears this information may fall into the wrong hands. You are wise to be concerned, Anck-su-namun," Seti answered grimly. He looked at the woman who betrayed him, the woman whom he betrayed.  
  
She looked more than just concerned. She looked frightened. He would frighten her more, but there was no help for it. She had to know the truth. Seti continued, indicating the computer screen, "Anatol is not a cryptic person. You know this. He fears whatever they have learned, and fears using both the old ways of communicating and the new. This is not good. He is trying to tell Ardeth what is happening, without spelling it out, as Celia and O'Connell say."  
  
"So Celia and the children may still be in danger?" Anck-su-namun asked with an involuntary glance toward her sleeping friend. Seti nodded grimly, and the woman vowed, her dark eyes flashing, "Then I will be ready!" Of that, Seti had no doubt. He only hoped the same was true of the other Med-jai. However, it would have to be enough. Seti blew a kiss to his daughter-in-law and grandchildren, then vanished. It was time to return to Middle Earth. It was time to return to Ardeth.


	12. Only in my Dreams

(sits up and dusts off hands after feeding flames to the Balrog) This is turning out quite nicely. Maybe I'll have this story finished by the time I leave for Atlanta in September, if this rate continues!  
  
Reviews:  
  
Belphegor: First, my thanks for correcting me on the matter of 'Helm's Deep.' I could not find my soundtrack for the life of me while I was writing that chapter, and couldn't check it. (I still can't find the soundtrack. . .so I bought another copy). I'm glad you like my characterization of Gimli and Legolas. . .Gimli is a favorite of mine. I'm a sucker for big softies who cover their soft hearts with bluster. Gimli falls into that category very nicely. Arwen and Seti. . .nice catch! That comment of Seti's was, indeed, inspired by Eldarion and Aragorn from '_Return of the King_.' One of my favorites, by the way. And I had to write that scene from Arwen's viewpoint. She was plainly frustrated in '_The Two Towers'_ with both Aragorn and Elrond, and I've never seen anyone cover that. This chapter is a little different, since it deals almost exclusively with those left behind. As for Anatol. . .I haven't figured out his email addy, but give me time. I know it'll be something funny, irreverent, and totally unexpected.  
  
Selene: Hi and welcome! Glad you enjoyed Ardeth riding after Aragorn. The consequences of his decision will come in the next chapter, though some of them are seen in this one. And I figured that Ardeth would be more surprised by Legolas than Gimli. I think I did tell you about the POTC story. . .if I didn't, I do apologize. You know what things have been like for me at work. It gets up to 100 degrees in the factory during the day. Unpleasant, to say the least.  
  
Terreis: Yup, the trouble is just starting, as you'll see in this chapter. Celia faces danger from a variety of sources. Short reviews are welcome, unsigned reviews are welcome. Anonymous ones are not.

Mommints: Yeah, I know exactly where you would be spending all your time! Gotta be careful, you wouldn't want your Med-jai to feel left out, now would you? I saw a photo of Orlando Bloom today, and thought, 'hmmm. Maybe I can add him to my own stable of Med-jai.' Scary biscuits. And you have my permission to use the prophecy mentioned by Seti. I loved writing that part between Seti and Suleiman. Suleiman has always been a fun character for me to write. . .the dichotomy between loving father and Med- jai leader. Seti is fun, because I like reinterpreting him. I like doing different things with characters. And of course it's possible to be 'Ardeth-esque.' Our beautiful, stubborn, stoic Med-jai. . .(sigh)  
  
Sailor Elf: Yep, Ardeth found Aragorn. And boy are they gonna make Saruman sorry! Of course. . .I'm already working on making him sorry, but still. . .  
  
OH! One last thing before I get to the story itself. I have a job interview on Friday! It's with the Department of Transportation (State). Keep your fingers crossed for me!  
  
Part Eleven  
  
It shouldn't have been such a shock, creeping into Celia and Ardeth's bedroom to find her (or rather, Nefertiri's) long-dead father in a conversation with his mistress and intended queen. Not after everything else Evy Carnahan O'Connell saw since the first raising of Imhotep. However. . .it was still jarring. To say the least. She blinked, staring at the sight in front of her, pinched herself, then looked again.  
  
No, it was still the same. Anck-su-namun sat at the computer that Ardeth and Celia shared (sometimes literally. And in such cases, often prompting Rick to groan, 'oh get a room!' Ardeth's answer could not be repeated in polite company). Evy almost wanted to laugh, seeing Anck seated in the same way Celia sat in the chair. All twisted up like a pretzel when she wasn't typing or looking up something on the Internet. Her right leg folded under her body, and her left leg folded over her right, half turned in the chair, with one arm flung across the back.  
  
On the other hand, Anck could sit in that position without fear of crippling herself. Too many times, she saw Celia in that position. . .and nearly break her neck when she tried to get up. As Evy entered the room, Anck effortlessly rearranged herself in the chair, and Evy asked softly, "Is everything okay? I just came in to check on Celia." She glanced over at her sleeping friend, frowning when she noticed that Celia looked tense even asleep. A second look at Anck told her that the ghost noticed the exact same thing.  
  
"All is well, daughter. I have others I must see, before I return to Ardeth. Take care of them, Nefertiri, Anck-su-namun," Nefertiri's father answered before vanishing. Evy looked away from the spot where Seti stood, to find Anck looking just as chagrined as she felt. . . especially when the late pharaoh added in a chiding, paternal voice, "And play nicely while I'm gone, children, or I _will_ hear about it."  
  
Anck rolled her eyes, and Evy just giggled softly, saying, "He drove Nefertiri absolutely mad when he did that. One moment, he was Pharaoh, head of state, and just as soon as the court sycophants were gone, he would be Seti, father to Rameses and Nefertiri, as well as our various brothers and sisters. Just like that, no warning." Evy paused, then added, "It always amused Rameses, though. Nefertiri never knew why."  
  
"I never saw that side of him. I wish I had. It might have made it easier for me to love him, the way he wanted me to. Or maybe not. All I ever wanted was my freedom. Free to simply be Anck-su-namun, free to love Imhotep, free to take care of my best friend. I could never understand why that was so wrong. I suppose in some ways, I resented Ardath just as much as I resented you. . .I mean, Nefertiri," Anck corrected herself.  
  
"Why is that? Because she found what you wanted, without even really looking for it?" Evy questioned. Anck nodded with a vaguely puzzled look. Since Celia was asleep (though not relaxed), and Rick was looking after Darius and Alex outside, Evy felt safe in broaching a topic she wondered about many times during the last two years. She asked softly, "Anck? I know why Nefertiri wanted to face you. . .but why did you want to face her?"  
  
Anck looked at Evy, and for a moment, the Englishwoman wasn't sure if she saw Evy Carnahan O'Connell. . .or her long-ago rival Nefertiri. However, that moment passed and Anck asked, "You mean when we faced each other in Ahm Shere?" Evy nodded. When Anck realized that she faced Nefertiri, rather than Evelyn O'Connell, she said, '_Good_.'  
  
"I have thought about that day many times, Evelyn. Tried to examine it in every way I could. I wanted to face Nefertiri because. . . there was a great deal that remained between us. I suppose I was angry with her for calling out to the Med-jai. And. . .there was some pride involved as well. I was Nefertiri's teacher. . .and I wanted to see how much she remembered," Anck finally answered. _Pride? Well, that is one way of looking at it.  
_  
The ghost continued, "There was another reason. I was angry with Meela for killing an innocent woman. I killed Seti, because I felt trapped. Meela. . .she enjoyed inflicting pain. You remember in the Ahm Shere that might have been. How she smiled when she stabbed Ardeth. Then, too, I screamed in fury. I do not know why. In my life, I hated the Med- jai as jailers, and because they failed to protect my forever friend. But Meela's deed angered me, Evelyn."  
  
Evelyn listened in silence. In truth, she didn't think Nefertiri ever listened to her father's mistress. . .not the way she should have. Seti, Nefertiri, Imhotep, Anck. . .they all were people who were at heart decent, products of their time. Seti only wanted love, like all people did. He simply went about it the wrong way. Like so many other people, past, present, and future.  
  
Anck added after a moment, blissfully unaware of what Evelyn was thinking, "And you know, Evelyn. . .it. . .I told Imhotep that he was the only one who could resurrect me. The truth was, I cared naught for being resurrected. It was the only way I could get him to leave." She sighed, looking at Evy, and added, "When he brought me back the second time, it was not very pleasant, awakening in the husk of the shell I once wore."  
  
Evy couldn't help herself. She giggled, saying softly, "You know what frightens me? I could easily see myself doing the _exact_ same thing to protect Rick!" Anck looked put-out for all of two seconds, then grinned ruefully. Evy muffled her giggles, then said, "Anck, we may never be friends." The other woman nodded at once, hearing what Evy wasn't saying.  
  
"But we will always share a brother and a sister, and we will always move heaven, hell, and earth to protect them," Anck observed quietly. Evy nodded. That was a peace in and of itself. Anck continued, glancing at Celia once more, "When I awoke two years ago, to find myself In-Between with Mathayus, he showed me another what might have been. The what might have been that would have happened if Imhotep won at Ahm Shere."  
  
Now **that** was scary. Even more so when Anck continued, "It. . . it showed me something I never wanted. I watched Celia die in that possible future, Evelyn. . .she died protecting Miranda. At the time, of course, I could not admit just how twisted I became. But now I can. I do not want such power. I wish only to protect those whom I love. That is all."  
  
"It's all most of us want, Anck," Evy answered. She thought, but didn't add, that there were times when you were focusing on keeping yourself alive, on making it from one day to the next, it didn't leave much time to consider much else. Anck merely nodded, her eyes distant, and Evy said, "Anything new or interesting to report? I'm guessing you hacked into the computer to find something."  
  
Anck sighed, answering, "You should find some place to sit, Evelyn. What I am about to tell you. . .is something you should know." Evy ignored the dread conjured up by those words, and instead, sat down on the windowsill, ready to listen.  
  
. . .  
  
Rick O'Connell was in danger of losing his mind. His hostess and sister-in-law after a fashion probably would have said that was his natural state, and right now, he would have agreed. He was the father of two young children. . .sometimes three, since Nefertiri was right smack dab in the middle of her terrible twos. Alex was ten, even more curious now than he was two years earlier. . .and back then, he scared the crap out of Rick on a regular basis.  
  
So, he was no green rookie when it came to children. However, this was different. Alex alone could literally raise the dead. Include Dari, the mind boggled at what the two could dream up. Especially now, when Dari was so afraid for his uncle. There was no attempt by Acacia to keep the truth from her son or her daughter about Ardeth. That wasn't the Med-jai way.  
  
As Acacia explained once, children had active imaginations. . .if one tried to withhold the truth, children would simply make up a far more terrifying reality, if only to provide themselves with any explanation. Rick could see that, but in the mind-bending world of the Med-jai, it was hard to believe any kid could dream up the actual explanations.  
  
It was Rick's job to keep the pair out of trouble. Keeping Alex and Evy out of trouble was hard enough. . .hell, compared with that set of evil twins, Nefertiri was a perfect angel. He could put up with squalling toddlers whose favorite word was '_no_.' That, at least, was normal. On the other hand, she was half-Carnahan, so the odds were good that Nefertiri would follow in her mother's footsteps. Eventually. As if Rick didn't have enough problems?  
  
Even so, he knew he wasn't the only one who had problems. During the last few days, as they tried to learn what was going on, the four Bey women held the Med-jai together. Not everyone knew exactly what happened to Ardeth. Even to the Med-jai, who spent the last three thousand years guarding a pile of sand and rubble and Imhotep, what happened to Ardeth sounded on the fantastical side.  
  
Altair, as a member of the Council, spent her time dealing with the Elders. According to Aric, who was once more courting the fiery widow, she actually boxed the ears of one Elder who blamed Celia for Ardeth's disappearance. Rick wasn't sure if he should laugh or cry when he heard that. She wasn't even there. . .and as much as he hated to admit the jackass might be right about something, Rick thought Imhotep had a point about keeping Celia away from that place.  
  
Aleta wasn't immune to further problems because of her brother's vanishing act, either. As a Healer, she reported that more people sought her out. Aleta Bey Carnahan was a woman who learned both the old and new ways of treating injuries and illness. And she was no stranger to the part played by the mind in both injuries and in healing. Aleta theorized that the rise in illnesses and injuries were due to their fear for their chieftain.  
  
It was different in battle, Aleta explained, because in battle, one tended to know what to expect. But in this situation. . .there were too many unknowns. Who was this being who took Ardeth? What did he want? What would he do with Ardeth? Could their chieftain find his way back? For some, faith was a solace. Not all felt that way, and it was they who sought out Aleta. General translation. . .stress was doing a number on people's health. _Surprise, surprise_.  
  
Acacia had her own burdens to carry. The day after Ardeth's disappearance, Beni went out to Hamunaptra with a patrol of young warriors. It was a training exercise. Beni went along with them as a former thief and plunderer of Hamunaptra. And as training exercises did from time to time, things went haywire. There was a raid at Hamunaptra, and Beni Gabor, the little weasel who once left Rick to die, threw himself in front of one of the teenaged warriors.  
  
They carried him back to Tiri as a hero, and during the last few days, Acacia was distracted from the worry over her two brothers by worry for her husband. To say nothing of giving a serious tongue-lashing to anyone who annoyed her. In a peculiar sort of way, this was a relief to the Med-jai at Tiri. They were accustomed to Acacia's temper, and for her to behave in this way was a weird return to normal.  
  
Then there was Celia. She was constantly busy during the last few days. . .keeping Alex and Dari out of trouble; being a source of strength for her mother-in-law and sisters-in-law; among other things. She was wilting under the constant action, which was why Anck and Evy finally sent her to her room for a nap. Immediately, Miranda crawled into bed with her mother, seeking comfort from the most constant person in her life. Andreas and Nefertiri joined them very shortly. Nefertiri seemed to sense that her aunt/mother was distressed.  
  
And Rick? Hell, he spent the last few days thinking about what he would do when they brought Ardeth back to them. How he would make it up to his friend for letting down his guard and letting that pissant use him. When he thought about it, it still infuriated Rick. He was furious with himself, for allowing himself to be used, and he was angry with that freak of nature, for using him to hurt his best friend.  
  
He. . .was interrupted as Alex called, trotting up to him with Dari at his side, "Dads! Dari and I were talking! We think we have an idea about getting Ardeth back!" Uh-oh. Here they went again. Rick found though, that he couldn't blame them. He wanted to be doing something, anything, that would bring their friend back to them. And looking at Dari was a constant reminder of how he failed his friend.  
  
He never noticed until now, just how much Dari resembled Ardeth. He didn't know why that was. It was stupid. They were family, after all, of the same blood. Ardeth was only ten months older than his sister Acacia, Dari's mother. . .the pair were Irish twins, so to speak. In another ten years or so, the resemblance between uncle and nephew would become even more pronounced. But in Dari, Rick saw a glimpse of what Ardeth looked like as a child. Oh sure, he saw that when he looked at Andreas, but most babies weren't that interesting. Except his own.  
  
He didn't realize he was still staring at Dari until Alex asked impatiently, "Well? What do you think, Dads, will it help us get Ardeth back?" Rick blinked and Alex gave a great sigh of exasperation, saying, "He wasn't even paying attention, Dari!" The young Med-jai boy didn't look particularly surprised, and Rick cast an apologetic look at both children. He appreciated that they were trying to help. Really, he did. . .  
  
"Sorry, kids. . .I guess I'm a little distracted myself. I'm worried about Ardeth, too. It's partly my fault that he was taken, and that's not something I'll forgive myself for any time soon," Rick told the boys. He was gonna lie. He was gonna say he heard every word, and was thinking it over. But looking into Darius Bey's dark eyes, eyes that reminded Rick of his uncle every time he looked at him. . .he couldn't lie. Dammit, this family was really starting to get on his nerves. And it was definitely the entire family, not just Ardeth. It was his entire damn family. Rick couldn't pretend with any of them!  
  
This was borne out a moment later when Dari said, his hand touching Rick's wrist. . .the same wrist carrying Rick's Med-jai tattoo, "It is not your fault. You are not to blame. And when Uncle Ardeth needed you most, you were there. When that bad man who hurt my mother came back." Strange, how the young saw things. Rick could barely remember being the same age as these two. What he did remember, he would rather not.  
  
"And 'sides," Alex put in, "if it isn't my fault that the Scorpion King came back, then it's not your fault that this evil wizard took Ardeth. Remember what Ardeth said when he and Anatol came to our house after we got back from Ahm Shere, and right before he met Celia? He said that the Scorpion King would have been awakened one way or another. He was just tired and upset when he came to our house in England."  
  
Rick remembered. It was the first night Ardeth was at their house, and the first time they ever met Anatol. Alex shyly apologized to Anatol, after hearing that he fought the Anubis Soldiers in the desert. Ardeth quietly told him that it wasn't really his fault (no, it was the fault of his parents), and Ardeth was very tired, very frustrated, and very angry with himself for allowing the kidnapping of Alex's mother.  
  
The American smiled, remembering his wife smacking the back of Ardeth's head, and blurting out, "Ardeth Bey, you take that back immediately! You are not at fault, do you understand me?" He also remembered Ardeth's somewhat stunned expression. Though Rick wasn't sure if he was stunned that Evy struck him, or that she was so vehement in her defense of him. Rick wasn't. He was smarting for a few hours after she reamed him for his less than stellar reception of Ardeth at the O'Connell manor in England.  
  
Now, he told the pair, "I know. And Ardeth is right. But. . .it's not so easy, believing that. Believing. . .accepting. . .that I couldn't have done anything to keep that creep out of my head. That's not so easy." He looked at the two boys, saying, "You know what we need? We need to go kick some butt. C'mon. I challenge both of you!" Two sets of eyes lit up, and they raced inside to the computer. Rick followed, smiling faintly. It wasn't much. . .but it would do. For now. It would do.  
  
. . .  
  
Right now, in her dreams was the only place where she saw him. It was like watching a movie in her mind. Seeing how they met. . . remembering how his initial wariness slowly give way to friendship. . .then love. She remembered the day they were married, and the day they learned that Andreas would make his appearance eight months later. She saw their kidnapping at the hands of Lock-nah and Nizam Toth, and the three days of hell that followed.  
  
Even those memories now were cherished, though she was sure it would kill her to remember in the immediate aftermath. Her grandmother always used to tell her that things happened for a reason. She couldn't understand how there was a particular reason why her husband of less than a year was being beaten and tortured right in front of her eyes, and there was nothing she could do about it.  
  
It sounded odd, to know she cherished even those memories. But while watching the torture tore out her heart, at least she could touch him eventually. At the end of those three days of hell, she broke free and cradled him in her arms, allowing him to touch her and the baby, and know they were both all right. It didn't occur to her, until it was much too late, that in her dreams, she was far more vulnerable.  
  
Here, there were no defenses, and all of her secrets were laid bare. Ardeth vanished from her view, and she looked around wildly. The dream just took a terrifying turn, and she had no idea how to retake control. A voice echoed around her, bouncing off the walls. And the words were always the same. . .the same words, over and over again. _Come to me, little queen. Yes. . .come to me. You know you wish to come to me. Come to me and find your husband. I can show you where he is. I can show you what his fate is. All you have to do is come to me._  
  
The words were familiar, but the voice was not, and it sent chills down her spine. Imhotep called her little queen, a term of affection, pride, and exasperation. There was only malevolence in this voice. Malevolence, hatred, and contempt. She experienced that odd wind sensation that always swept over her when she remembered more of her past lives, but instead of finding herself in ancient Egypt, as Ardath or Thalia, among others, she faced a man who was strangely familiar to her. She looked at him warily, asking, "Who are you?"  
  
It wasn't especially original or imaginative, but it was necessary. There was no panic in her voice, only suspicion. She asked as a member of the Legacy, as the Med-jai queen, as the wife of Ardeth Bey and the mother of his children. The man just smiled at her. He was an old man. . .the way Imhotep would look, if he looked every year of his thirty centuries. But she never sensed evil emanating from Imhotep, not like the evil she felt from this man.  
  
Evil. She stopped, thought that through. Oh yes. Of course. How could she have been so foolish? He already told her whom he was. He told her that, when he promised to return her husband to her. By promising to give her what she wanted most right now. She remembered a conversation she had once with a priest, while she was an active member of the Legacy. Evil lied. Oh, it told the truth, but it also lied. That was why she couldn't trust this being. No matter how much she wanted her husband home.  
  
Celia Bey nodded, staring at her 'companion,' and said, "You're Saruman. You're the one who kidnapped my husband." The man's smile faded. She wasn't supposed to realize that, obviously. Well. She would just have to disappoint him once more. Again. As many times as it took. Celia continued, nodding her head with a faint smile, "Of course. When I arrived here, you told me that you could take me to my husband. All I had to do was go to you. Well, I'm here. . .now where's Ardeth?"  
  
"It is not quite so simple, little queen," Saruman answered, his disdain toward her obvious in every word he spoke, "surely, if you know whom I am, you should also know that. Then again, your kind is notoriously foolish." Celia controlled her desire to punch him. . . hard. Instead, she focused on learning as much as she could. She didn't believe she could trick him into returning Ardeth, but the more they knew...  
  
His face changed then, taking on the appearance of a kindly old uncle or a grandfather. He circled around her, saying softly, "Think on it, child. Your heart betrays you. I know how much you wish to be reunited with your Ardeth. Tis why you sent those scouts to the caverns from whence he disappeared. I can arrange for that, you know. I have that power. I can arrange for him to hold you once more, for you to feel his hair in your fingers."  
  
Almost against her will, Celia closed her eyes. He was right, of course. Her heart, her longing, betrayed her. Here, in the dream plane, there was no hiding from your truest desires. No hiding from yourself. She wanted her husband home. She wanted her brother-in-law safely back on Med-jai lands, she wanted her people safe. All of her people. Saruman was offering to give her husband back to her. What he asked was so simple.  
  
For the rest of her life, Celia wondered if she would have found the strength to say '_no_' to him, if he had not made a serious tactical blunder at that moment in time. Saruman drew closer. . .Celia could feel his breath on her neck. . .and whispered, "You are a bright young woman. I can see this, in Ardeth's mind and in yours. Too bright to stand against me. You know when you are beaten, when you can no longer resist."  
  
Celia's eyes flew open and she stared at him. He smiled at her, seeming to think that he had her, and said, "To turn away from the friendship of Saruman is a very foolish thing. Your kind is, as I said, notoriously foolish. But you can be sensible, child. The war in Middle Earth is not your fight. It has nothing to do with you. Come to me, and I will take you to your husband. He will leave with you. Think on it, girl. . .be sensible."  
  
Celia ignored the implied promise, that he would allow her and Ardeth to leave this place called "_Middle Earth_" without attempting to destroy them. The trouble was, the implied promise was canceled out by the implied threat. Be sensible, he told her. In other words, give into the dark side, because it was sheer foolishness to stand against him. Something she heard often while she was in the Legacy. Always by someone who overestimated themselves.  
  
_He's seen Star Wars a few too many times_, she thought, knowing fully well that wasn't the case at all. She knew it was just a coincidence that he sounded just like Emperor Palpatine, particularly during his final confrontation with Luke. Celia stared at Saruman steadily, calling upon her years in the Legacy and her time in dealing with the Legacy. And slowly, she had the pleasure of seeing his smile fade.  
  
The clouds in her mind were not gone. The compulsion to say '_yes_,' and throw away everything she believed in, was still there. The desire to say '_yes_,' and betray her husband to save him. But Celia fought it now, for she did see Saruman's true face, and that made it easier.  
  
"Notoriously foolish? So it would seem to one such as yourself, but then, you aren't exactly known for your intelligence, either. You've underestimated my husband once. Now it's my turn. It seems simple enough to me. You wanted me to come to you. I want my husband back. Well, here I am, and here you are, now take me to Ardeth!" Celia fired back. The wizard glowered at her, but she met his gaze head-on. He was no longer dealing with the shy, somewhat awkward young girl who first arrived in Cairo, the girl she sometimes still was in her dreams.  
  
No, now he was dealing with the Med-jai queen. She was an entirely different person. Her mind worked at a feverish rate, the queen brutally suppressing the wife who missed her husband so terribly much, who would have agreed. She had to think clearly. People were counting on her. Her children, her husband. . .too many others. _Focus, Celia, focus_! Entities such as the one before her never offered something without wanting something in exchange.  
  
And the price asked was often entirely too high. Strangely enough, it became easier for her to remember that as the moments ticked by. More and more, she sensed, rather than saw, her grandparents nearby. They weren't alone. There were others. Many others. Many times many, and they shielded her. She wasn't the only one who sensed them. Saruman felt it, too. His dark eyes flashed and he reached out his hand, as if to seize her.  
  
Celia backpedaled, and found another protector in front of her. Mathayus, the Scorpion King, growled, "Touch her, Saruman the Deceiver, and I will remove your head from your body." Gentle hands were pulling Celia back, back, back, and more bodies took their place between her and the wizard responsible for her husband's disappearance. She shook herself, and with it, the last bit of the spell he was casting upon her.  
  
The intervention also gave her time to think. It is not that simple, he told her. No. No, he didn't want her essence. . .what was here in the spiritual plane. He wanted her to go to the caverns where Ardeth was taken. A half second later, Celia figured out why. Her blood ran cold as the pieces fell into place. She should have seen it before. Celia said softly, staring at Saruman around the considerable bulk of Mathayus, "You want me to go to the caverns where you kidnapped my husband. . .to use me, where you tried to use my husband. I'll not go!"  
  
Mathayus looked back at her when she spoke, and the young queen saw an answering fury in the eyes of the Akkadian assassin when he saw the truth in her words. His head whipped back around to Saruman, asking, "Is that right, little man? Would you use this girl to destroy her husband? Are you such a little man that you can only use helpless women and children to achieve your goals?" Once more, hands pulled Celia back, and this time, someone new joined them. Celia looked to her right and saw an unfamiliar young woman at her side.  
  
"I am Saruman. You cannot hurt me, petty king!" Saruman snarled at Mathayus. Celia just raised her eyebrows. Well now. This was interesting. It seemed Saruman was in the habit of underestimating his enemies. Ardeth, her, and now Mathayus. That was fine with her. The wizard proclaimed, "I am Saruman, the White Wizard! I am Istari, and long after you are no more than dust, I will remain!" Celia rolled her eyes. He really was becoming tiresome. She wasn't the only one who thought so.  
  
"You forgot to mention that you were also a fool, a braggart, and a coward," the unfamiliar young woman answered almost pertly. Saruman growled and reached toward her. The young woman's face didn't change at all. . .but she raised her hand, and Saruman was thrown back several feet, landing in a heap on his ass. The young woman added, "I am Cassandra. . .sorceress and queen. And I have faced far worse than you, Saruman the Deceiver."  
  
"And as for remaining long after I am dust. . .you have no idea where you are, do you? The only people here who walk in the world of the living are you and the Med-jai queen. We are all the dead here, Saruman the Deceiver. You cannot hurt us. And you cannot hurt the queen, for we will not let you," Mathayus added. Celia reflected a bit ruefully that she was starting to feel like Haley Joel Osment in '_The_ _Sixth Sense_.' She, too, saw dead people on a regular basis. Every day. And twice on Sundays, as her grandmother liked to say.  
  
Saruman struggled to his feet. He extended his staff, but a second wave of Cassandra's hand wrenched it from his clenched fist. Not only wrenched it from his hand, but it flew halfway across the room to shatter. The wizard actually cried out in shock, and the young sorceress added, "Do not make us warn you again. This girl is under our protection. You called to her in her dreams, without once considering the consequences of doing so. Just as you took her husband from this world into your own. . .without considering the consequences."  
  
"And now that he's there, he has made your enemies twice as powerful. Look, Saruman. Look at my son!" Seti boomed out. Celia relaxed a little more, knowing her past father-in-law was at her side. She knew how much Seti loved Ardeth, and knew he would be in Middle Earth with him. The dead pharaoh waved his hand, and Celia gasped out loud, seeing her husband. He was alive. He looked exhausted, and in terrible pain, but he was alive.  
  
Cassandra, the sorceress, put her hand on Celia's shoulder comfortingly. Ardeth was riding a horse, his face twisted with pain. There was a second man on the horse with him, though Celia could not see his face. He was slumped against the neck of the horse. Every few minutes, Ardeth would tremble, ever so slightly. Someone who didn't know him very well would have missed it. But she knew it. She saw it, and she whispered, "He's hurting."  
  
Seti answered gently, "Yes, child. He was stabbed when he arrived in their world. But he is strong, and he is fighting the injury as he fights all his battles. Just as he will fight in the battle for Helm's Deep. The fortress of those who stand against Saruman and Sauron. Against the might of the two towers." There was a mocking tone in his voice, as if he was repeating something Saruman once said.  
  
Celia didn't answer. She was too busy looking at her husband, drinking in every last detail. His cloak was draped around him, the cloak she gave him on their wedding day. There were circles under his eyes, and Celia had no doubt that if he could see, Galen would be teasing Ardeth about his new luggage. His black hair was a matted mess. . .it wasn't as if he carried a brush with him. But he was still breathtakingly beautiful to her. He was alive. Every few minutes, he would glance at the man in front of him, then turn his attention to the countryside, as if looking for a threat. Still her Ardeth. . .still on his guard. It kept him alive.  
  
His face contorted and he groaned a little, slumping forward as he pressed his arm to his stomach. He was hurt. Stab wound. . . perhaps lingering pain from Rick's Saruman-induced attack in the cave. She didn't blame Rick for that. She blamed the monster appearing to her now as a person. If there was any anger lingering toward Rick, for not fighting harder, it was gone now. Now that she knew just how powerful this wizard was.  
  
"He was stabbed, my daughter, while defending a helpless one. You know how he is," Seti told her, and Celia nodded, smiling in spite of herself. Yes, she knew how her husband was. He could not. . . would not. . .simply stand by if someone needed aid. That wasn't Ardeth Bey. That wasn't the man she loved. . .that wasn't the man she married. . .that wasn't the father of her children. Again, Cassandra squeezed her shoulder, and the two women watched as the long-dead pharaoh turned his attention to the wizard.  
  
"You see, Saruman. . .you made a terrible mistake, when you kidnapped the Med-jai chieftain from his world, from his time, from his people, from his family. You failed to recognize that Ardeth Bey and his wife have been in this situation before. Lock-nah and Nizam Toth could not use Celia Bey as a weapon against her husband. . .what makes you think you could succeed where they failed?" Seti taunted.  
  
Now, they formed a protective semi-circle around Celia. There was no one in front of her. Here, in the dream plane, that was possible. For someone to disappear from one place and reappear a short distance away. Everyone was behind her, still protecting her. It was just her and Saruman. But she was not afraid. Even as the wizard glared at her, she was not afraid. Here, he was nothing more than a paper tiger.  
  
Something he still didn't seem to understand. But it was she who misread things this time. Saruman was also somewhere else. . .and where he was, he still had power. The wizard spat, "So. . .be. . .it! But understand me, and understand me well, little queen! Helm's Deep _will_ fall! Look well upon your husband, Cecelia Bey of the Med-jai, for it will be the last time you ever see him. When Helm's Deep falls. . .and fall it will. . ._your husband will die_!"  
  
This time, he waved his hand and the picture showed Ardeth once more. He was doubled over in pain, supported on either side by. . . Celia did a double take. Was that. . .an _elf_? She blinked, trying to clear her vision, but the pointed ears were still there. What manner of place was this Middle Earth? Then again, her father-in-law. . .the one from thirty centuries previous. . .did say that Ardeth was trapped more than thirty thousand years in the past. Ardeth cried out, and fell to his knees.  
  
Saruman grinned viciously, saying, "You see? Helm's Deep will fall, Med-jai queen. Helm's Deep will fall, and her defenders will die. Your husband will be mine, one way or another." Ardeth slumped sideways as his two companions tried to pull him to his feet, alarm showing on both faces, and Celia now saw that her husband was unconscious. There was a part of her which was relieved. . .it would give him some relief from the pain. Though not enough. Not nearly enough. She almost forgot that, as Saruman began to laugh softly. . . knowingly. Celia clenched her fists at her sides, as Mathayus, Cassandra, and Seti held her back.  
  
It was necessary. Because if they didn't hold her back, she knew. . .she _knew_ with absolute certainty. . .that she _would_ lunge at him. And that was what he wanted. If she lunged at him, he would have her, and she could not allow that. If she lunged at him, then everything Ardeth went through to this point would be for nothing, because Saruman would have a weapon against him. Instead, frustrated and exhausted, Celia screamed at the top of her lungs. . .  
  
. . .  
  
"_ARDETH_!"  
  
The cry shocked both Anck and Evelyn, who were quietly discussing the latest news from Anatol, news that was not news at all. It also woke up the three children, and only Evy's reflexes kept her frightened daughter from rolling off the bed. She caught Andreas with her other arm, and the little boy woke up, screaming. Miranda scooted off the bed, small hands pressed to her ears as she stared in horror at her mother.  
  
Rick O'Connell bolted into the room, Dari Bey and young Alex at his heels. Anck could not call upon the energy she needed to make herself whole, and had to rely upon O'Connell. He sat down on the bed, grasping Celia's shoulders. She was upright in bed, her eyes staring at nothing in particular. O'Connell drew her into his arms, whispering, "It's okay, Celia. . .come on back. It's okay."  
  
"Night terrors," Evelyn whispered, easing Nefertiri to the ground. Alex immediately picked up his sister, and Nef clung to him. Dari took his cousin and Anck stood beside Miranda, hoping to comfort the child with her presence. Anck didn't point out to the other woman that it was the middle of the day, because that wasn't the point. Nightmares happened while you were asleep, and so did night terrors.  
  
Celia choked out, "Rick?" Then she slumped against him, her body shaking with quiet sobs. O'Connell, much to Anck's surprise, said nothing. Perhaps he learned a few things during the last few years, for he simply held her and gently stroked her hair. At last, the sobs eased and O'Connell pulled back. Celia took a deep, though ragged, breath, and forced out, "It was Saruman. He. . .I don't know how, but he called to me in my dreams."  
  
O'Connell froze in place, his blue eyes turning dark with fury. But still, he said nothing. Instead, Evelyn asked softly, "What do you mean, Celia, he called to you in your dreams? You mean. . .a visit?" Celia nodded, the barest hint of a smile touching her mouth as O'Connell removed his handkerchief and began drying her tears as if she was Nef's age. She took another deep breath, a little less ragged this time.  
  
"The dream plane. Yes. He. . .reached forward in time. Maybe he can exist outside time, I don't know. He wanted me to go to him. If I went to him, he would take me to Ardeth. But he meant. . .he meant go to the cavern. He wanted to take me into his time, so he could use me against Ardeth," Celia answered. She was still trembling, but the queen was asserting herself now. Anck went cold, as she realized what her friend was saying.  
  
Celia was protected on the dream plane, but she was also vulnerable there. It went back to the old tale about if you died in your dreams, you died in reality. The same idea held true. If Saruman was able to touch Celia, he could have harmed her. And harmed her badly. Celia continued hoarsely, "Saruman didn't count on me being protected by the dead. The Scorpion King. His queen." She paused, looked at Evelyn and Anck and added, "And Seti."  
  
The pair looked at each other, and Evelyn murmured, "Well. Now we know what he meant about knowing if we didn't play nicely." Anck nodded, allowing herself a faint smile. Evelyn became all business as Miranda crept back to her mother's side. She crawled up onto the bed, and Celia drew her against her body. Andreas made his wishes known. . .he wanted to be with his mother as well.  
  
O'Connell maintained his position, but adjusted himself on the bed so the two Bey children could be comforted by their mother, and comfort her in turn. Evelyn continued once the little ones were secure in their mother's arms, "What else happened, Celia? Mathayus and his queen protected you, as did Seti. . .but when you woke up, you screamed Ardeth's name. What happened?" Celia blanched, and Anck controlled her desire to backhand Evy. The Englishwoman didn't cause this. This was Saruman's doing. She had to remember that. She had to remember that he was the only one responsible for this travesty.  
  
"Mathayus was there. . .his queen, Cassandra. Thalia. Ardath. Seti. My grandparents. Others. Cassandra stopped Saruman twice. She humiliated him. Seti reminded him that he made one mistake already in bringing Ardeth to his time, and showed him to us all. He's hurt. Hurt bad. But for now, he's all right. I saw him, riding double with another man. I couldn't see the other man's face very well, because he was lying against the horse's neck. But he was there. Saruman became angry. Told me to. . .told me to look at Ardeth while I could, because when Helm's Deep fell. . .and it would. . .that Ardeth would die," Celia replied hoarsely.  
  
There was a long silence, then O'Connell said, "Okay. Time out. What the hell is Helm's Deep, and why does he think it will fall?" Both excellent questions. Anck thought back to what Seti told her, glowering at Evelyn as she started to chastise her husband for his language. This was not the time! Then she thought about the context of the sentence. Helm's Deep. Will fall. That was what he told Celia.  
  
"It is a fortress or a garrison, something of that sort. Perhaps where the enemies are Saruman and the allies of Ardeth are located," Anck observed quietly. Celia bobbed her head, acknowledging this particular truth. Anck continued, looking at Celia, "And what makes him so certain that Helm's Deep will fall? He sounds like a great many other men I have noticed. . .he has made many mistakes up to this point."  
  
"It's a fortress, yes. And there was something else I saw. I think I must have seen through Ardeth's eyes, because. . .because I saw these. . .monsters. I don't know how else to put it. They looked at first like men. . .horribly twisted men. And there were. . .so many. They were marching toward this Helm's Deep. I don't know how I knew that, maybe it was because Ardeth knew it. But he was afraid," Celia replied. The tremors were fewer now, but she still looked shaken.  
  
She wasn't the only one. They were all shaken. In the silence that fell, everyone looked at each other uncomfortably. Miranda said at last, "But Papa won't let the bad man win, will he, Mama?" Her small voice shook a little. Celia looked down at her daughter, and Anck saw the shift in her focus. The frightened girl was giving way to the mother. She smiled, gently stroking her daughter's dark hair.  
  
"Of course not, love. Your papa has never given up in his life. He will most certainly not let that evil man win. And your grandfather Seti will not allow anything to happen to your papa," Celia replied. Anck nodded, though she had to smile inwardly at this reference to Seti. After his original return, to save Ardeth, Seti gradually spent more and more time with the reincarnations of his son and daughter, and daughter-in-law.  
  
No longer Pharaoh, but simply one of the dead at his own choice, Seti was learning the simple joys of being a father and grandfather. He adored all of his grandchildren, the granddaughters no less than the grandsons. Then again, he loved Nefertiri just as much as he loved Rameses. Something she never truly considered before, but she should have. He treasured Nefertiri because she was his daughter, though not a son, always the preferred offspring.  
  
"And Grandpa Seti wouldn't let anything happen to Papa, just like Uncle Imhotep or Auntie Anck won't let anything happen to us," Miranda completed. Celia smiled. Miranda went on, sighing, "I just wish Uncle Rick could go after Papa, like he did when those bad men took you and Papa. Uncle Rick and Uncle Imhotep." Anck couldn't help herself. She looked at O'Connell, who was staring at the little girl.  
  
He didn't say anything, not right away at least. He was too busy staring at the child in absolute shock. Anck had no illusions about O'Connell and his willingness to work with Imhotep again. But she also knew that if it came to that, and joining forces with Imhotep would save Ardeth. . .O'Connell would do just that. In spite of herself, she had to acknowledge that perhaps she was wrong about O'Connell after all. He willingly gave of his own strength to those whom Anck loved during these last few days.  
  
The silence was becoming uncomfortable now, as people looked at each other, unable to properly respond to Miranda's wish. O'Connell finally said, when no one else spoke, "Well, honey. . .I wish I could do that, too. I wish I could bring your papa home. But since I can't, I'll do the next best thing." Miranda looked at him with her large dark eyes, and O'Connell added, "I'm gonna take care of you, and your little brother, and your mama. And when your papa gets home, I'll help take care of him, too. I promise." Curiously, Anck believed him. Or maybe not quite so curiously. He wasn't the same O'Connell he was two years earlier.  
  
"And Uncle Rick always keeps his promises," Evelyn said, smiling at her husband, "_always_." Anck rolled her eyes, but smiled anyhow. Miranda just burrowed her head against her mother's shoulder, and Evelyn continued, "Anck. . .perhaps you should remain closer to Celia when she goes back to sleep." Celia opened her mouth to protest, but Evelyn glared at her, saying, "You are exhausted, Celia! If you don't rest, you'll collapse, and then when Ardeth gets back, we'll have to take care of you both!"  
  
Sneaky. But then, Evelyn had many years to perfect that. Celia closed her mouth with a snap, and Evelyn looked at Anck. The ghost nodded her agreement, and Evelyn continued, "Now. We have that settled. Rick, you and I should take the children outside and play for a while. No, Nef, Andreas and Miranda have to remain here. Nefertiri. . .no pouting. Much better. Anck. . .take care of them." The ghost nodded, and the O'Connell family filed from the room. Celia sighed and lay back, her two children huddling closer. Well. At least she wasn't making this difficult for Anck!  
  
. . .  
  
Saruman the White pushed himself to his feet, glowering at nothing in particular. That girl was just as bad as her husband. . .she just had to be difficult. It ever so conveniently slipped his mind that he was trying to trick her into doing something that would destroy her family and her husband. That was hardly the point. **HE** was Saruman the White, she was not supposed to stand against him. Why did she have to be so foolish?  
  
And those others! A sorceress, a king, a pharaoh. . .the father of the mad pharaoh whom Ardeth Bey was, once upon a time. Begrudgingly, Saruman had to admit that perhaps he should have anticipated that. From what he learned during the last few days, it seemed likely that Seti existed outside of time, as Saruman himself did, because he was a child of the gods. On the other hand, they all existed outside time.  
  
Assuming, of course, that the girl didn't summon them to her defense. Yes. Saruman liked that possibility much better. She wasn't strong enough to stand against him, and so she called upon the dead to defend her. Lucky for him that Aragorn wasn't wise enough to do something similar. One could not harm the dead. . .they were beyond pain, beyond death, beyond anything that the living could use against them.  
  
He knew a little of the Scorpion King. He knew what Mathayus became toward the end of his life. Perhaps he made a mistake, and overshot his mark. Perhaps he should have brought Mathayus back in time, just after he lost his sorceress-queen, Cassandra. No doubt Mathayus would have been far more malleable than Ardeth was. Even so, it would lost its appeal.  
  
Part of the appeal of taking Ardeth from his home and family was that he was still a man of honor. Where was the challenge in taking, and breaking, someone who threw away their honor? There was none. There was no challenge, no joy. And it certainly took all the pleasure out of torture for the orcs. Besides, there was also the concern that someone like the Scorpion King would oust Saruman, and take command of the army himself.  
  
Not, of course, that Saruman was concerned about such a thing. Lord Sauron would never allow such a thing. He brutally suppressed the voice in the back of his mind that warned him Lord Sauron allowed Ardeth Bey to be taken from their grasp. That was the fault of those two meddlesome little Hobbits. He should have killed all four of them, and Gandalf, when he had the chance. But no, he had to spare Gandalf out of respect for an outdated friendship!  
  
Truly, Saruman wasn't entirely sure why he attempted to lure the girl back to the caverns. Ardeth was stolen away from him. . .what was to say that the same thing wouldn't happen a second time? And that was even taking into consideration that the girl was even allowed to leave her city. She was well-protected, both in the dream-plane and in the physical world. Her magician, the one called 'Imhotep,' was determined to keep her from the caves.  
  
Still, he had to at least try. He could have used the girl as a bargaining tool, if nothing else. Use her to force the defenders for Helm's Deep into laying down their weapons. . .and then slaughtering them. Saruman almost had her. . .he was sure of that, but what was uncertain was where he lost her. He saw the struggle behind her eyes, between queen and wife, between love and duty. He almost had her.  
  
Where did he go wrong? Perhaps it was of little importance, since she was no longer within his reach. Those on the dream-plane knew about him now, and there was no way they would allow him near her. He sensed her on the dream-plane once more, surprising him. Just for the sake of experimentation, Saruman once more reached out, reached for her mind and her essence, to see if he could.  
  
This time, he found his way blocked by a slender, scowling young woman with long black hair. Her body was covered with a gold paint, and her hand raised from her side. The force knocked him on his posterior for a third time today, and she snarled in a language unfamiliar to him, but he understood nonetheless, "Attempt to reach her again, Saruman, and I will melt your brain in its case!"  
  
Ah. This, then, was the infamous Anck-su-namun. The ghost who was once the best friend of Lady Ardath, the mad pharaoh's concubine. And she herself was mad. As if hearing his thoughts, the concubine added, "Mad, am I? Perhaps. And perhaps you should know better than to try something so foolish a second time. Do not underestimate me, Saruman the White, or I will make you regret it!"  
  
He was wary of this one. She killed Seti, when he discovered her with her lover Imhotep. The magician. He could do nothing to Ardeth now, but perhaps he could lure the magician back to the caves, and take him instead. Perhaps. . .  
  
Perhaps he should guard his thoughts more carefully. Anck-su-namun narrowed her eyes, saying, "You would be far better served, Saruman the White, to watch your own backyard. Even now, the young halflings are seeking to turn the Ents against you." Saruman looked at the woman sharply. He wasn't concerned about the Ents, but he did want to know how she could know such a thing.  
  
The woman just smiled lazily, replying, "As I said. You should tend to your own backyard, instead of worrying on someone else. Danger is much closer than you may think." Saruman deliberately turned his back on her. He did not listen to ghosts, much less dead concubines who were hardly more than gutter rats. Though he turned his back on the woman, he could not ignore her ringing laughter as she said, "A gutter rat I may be. . .but at least I am honest about what I am. Which is more than I can say for you!"  
  
Saruman turned back to glower at her and dismiss her to her Underworld, but Anck-su-namun was quietly disappearing. She smiled at him as she did, saying, "Just remember. You have been warned. Underestimate my family at your own risk. And do not try to lure Celia to your side again. For the next time you do, you will learn that I am a woman of my word!" And with that, she was gone, leaving Saruman to stare at the empty space.  
  
She was only a woman, only a concubine, only a Human. Why should he listen to a word she said? No reason in the world. None. With a grim smile, Saruman turned his attention back to the progress of his Uruk-hai. By nightfall, they would reach Helm's Deep. By the following morning, Rohan would be his. . .and the rest of free Middle Earth would fall. Once Rohan was his, he would take Gondor. And no one could stop him.


	13. Words Between Friends

Reviews:  
  
Mommints: You are quite welcome, and I thank you for your well-wishes. I think the job interview went well. Not sure if I got the job, but I didn't make myself look like an idiot and did rather well on the tests they administered. Heh. . .they were fun! Lovely thought indeed, guardian angels.  
  
Belphegor: You know what's really funny? Recently, I watched _3M_ again, and found myself thinking, 'They don't hold a candle to the Med-jai. They're Med-jai Lite.' But I do take your meaning about Saruman. In fact, that was one reason I couldn't bear to leave Imhotep as a strictly bad guy. To my mind, he was an honorable villain. . .I've always believed he refused to save Hafez because Hafez left his own men to die. Something to which I allude in '_The Forever Friends_,' when Evy compares Imhotep and Khaldun. I've never seen either of the '_Kill Bill'_ movies, but I have heard about O'Ren Ishii. Something of a female samurai. I found your comments especially fascinating, since Rachel Weisz made the comment that Nefertiri and Anck used a form of battle based on ancient Japanese weaponry. In this chapter, you get your wish. . .Jonathan is back! Not to worry, there are plenty more weasels (Nizam Toth, Sanure's widower, among others). Actually, Beni is Acacia's third husband. . .her second husband scrammed when he found out that Damara was on her way. It was because of said second husband that Acacia took back her maiden name, at least until she met Beni. It was her attempt at protecting her daughter, in particular. I've long wanted to believe, at the very least, that the people whom we love and who loved us in life, watch over us after they're dead. It's a comforting one, and one I often use in my stories.  
  
Sailor Elf: Whose butt? Ardeth's or Saruman's? It could go either way, since she is so afraid for Ardeth. . .but more likely, if she had the opportunity, she'd kick Saruman's butt. Minor spoiler here. . .I don't know how the confrontation between Saruman and Gandalf goes, as I haven't seen the extended version of '_Return of the King_,' but I've already decided Saruman's fate in this story. Let me put it this way. . . he finds out that it's a VERY bad idea to tick off Anck-su-namun.  
  
Terreis: (laughing) Well, you're right about one thing. . .right now, Celia and Anck are the absolute least of Saruman's worries! I would have loved to have seen something like that, Cassandra kicking Saruman's butt. I adored Cassandra in '_The Scorpion King_.' As for your request. . .well, keep reading. And feel free to make requests, as long as you don't ask me to change pairings (that drives me crazy. Reading an _ER_ fic, in which pairings are clearly stated, and someone begs for a 'Carby' (Carter/Abby) even after the writer has said it will not be). Thank you for your well wishes. . .as soon as I hear anything. . .well, so will you!  
  
Deana: Thank you, dear! Here's more!

To my fellow Americans: Happy Fourth of July! Have a wonderful, and safe, holiday.

For those who are curious about the sequel to this story. . .spoilers are available, if you want them. Unfortunately, the only title I can come up with is a spoiler in and of itself, so I'm making the offer to spoil it on your terms, instead of mine.  
  
One more thing. . .as I've told Belphegor and Terreis, if you have an idea or a request, please feel free to make them. The request may not be fulfilled, but I do welcome them, because they do provide inspiration. And if I can't fulfill it in this story, other stories may prove to be the right ground for said inspiration.  
  
On with the story!  
  
Part Twelve  
  
Arwen Undomiel was preparing for yet another round with her father when a familiar voice (to her, at least) shook Rivendell with its rage. As Arwen listened to her father remind her of what was at stake, what would happen to her if she remained in Middle Earth with Estel, Pharaoh Seti the First, divine mortal child, boomed out, "He dares????" _Oh no_. This did **not** sound promising. She rose to her feet as the long-dead future pharaoh materialized.  
  
"Seti? What is it?" Arwen asked anxiously. She ignored her father's startled look, and instead, focused on her strange ally. He was literally trembling with rage. Arwen would have known if some new travesty befell Aragorn and Ardeth. . .no, something else was wrong. But what? What could anger her ally so greatly that he would appear without warning. . .what could anger him so greatly, that his voice could be heard throughout Rivendell?  
  
"Saruman," came Seti's reply through tightly gritted teeth. Arwen wondered, albeit briefly, if that was causing pain to him. What he said next, however, drove that out of her mind. The pharaoh continued, making a concerted effort to calm down, "That pile of camel dung attacked my daughter-in-law on the dream plane. He meant to lure her to the same caverns from whence he abducted Ardeth. He was cast out, and attempted to regain entrance to the dream-plane. Anck-su-namun blocked his attempts, and warned him that further attempts would lead to painful consequences for him."  
  
"Oh, no," Arwen murmured. She knew Saruman's tricks. It spoke well for Seti's daughter-in-law that she faced the Deceiver. However, she was also concerned about Saruman attempting to attack her not once, but twice on said dream-plane. And what of Anck-su-namun? What would happen if she carried out her threat? She was not of this world. . .then again, Arwen admitted, nor was Ardeth, and that hardly stopped Saruman from bringing him here.  
  
And that was not Seti's concern at the moment. He looked at her, his eyes filled with grief and guilt, and he said, "I can only protect her so much, Arwen. She fears falling asleep, even with Anck-su-namun watching over her. She fears what can bring her peace, at least until my son is safely back in her arms. I cannot protect her from the fear she carries into the dream-plane." Arwen understood.  
  
She replied, "You gave me your aid, to save Aragorn and Ardeth. Now, I will give you mine. Take my hand." Surprised, the pharaoh did as he was told (quite possibly a first in that respect), and Arwen continued, "Now, lead me to your daughter-in-law's essence. I will aid her as much as I can. . .as much as she will allow me." Her father started to protest, but Arwen said, "No, Ada. This is something I can do, something I must do. This girl's husband was brought into our world against his will, and now Saruman seeks to trick her into being his pawn. I'll not allow it."  
  
Arwen closed her eyes and opened her mind, her heart, her very soul. One moment, she was in Rivendell, holding Seti's hand. In the next, she was. . .somewhere else. It was lovely. Misty. Like Rivendell after a rainstorm, or emerging from a waterfall and seeing the world through a veil of rain. She wasn't alone. There was a slender, wary-looking young woman looking down upon the world below them.  
  
This was Celia. Arwen had no doubt of it, though Seti never described his daughter-in-law's reincarnation. She was small. . . shorter than Arwen. Her dark hair was worn long, almost to her shoulders, but was now pulled back into something that rather resembled a horse's tail, though Arwen was uncertain if that was the purpose. The young woman looked up, her shoulders going up and back, and Arwen said softly, "Do not fear me, Celia. I am Arwen. . .I have come to help you, at Seti's request."  
  
"Seti? Are you dead?" the other young woman asked with a puzzled frown. Arwen shook her head with a smile, taking her hand. Celia continued, still regarding Arwen warily, "Then how do you know of him? And help me, how, exactly?" Arwen didn't answer at first, allowing the human woman to get the questions and frustration out of her system. She was frightened and tired and still seething from the confrontation with Saruman. It was to be expected that she needed to purge the venom from her soul.  
  
Once Celia finished, Arwen replied, "In answer to your second question, he came to me, offering his aid in rousing my Aragorn. Your husband sought him after he disappeared, unwilling to leave Aragorn's fate undecided. But Ardeth is a stranger to my world, and he needed help finding Aragorn. As for helping you. . .he also told me about your encounter with Saruman, here on the dream-plane."  
  
Now Celia smiled, almost reluctantly, and said, "I should have known. Seti has never liked being helpless. I know he can protect me physically here, but he cannot protect me from my own fear. I barely resisted him, Lady Arwen. That monster. . .I almost betrayed my husband." Arwen's heart ached for the grief and guilt she heard in the other woman's voice. With her free hand, she cupped Celia's chin, forcing her to look at Arwen.  
  
"But resist him, you did. . .and betray your husband, you did not. You stood up to an Istari, Celia of the Med-jai. . .an ancient wizard, who has lived for thousands of years. You stood up to him, a worthy accomplishment in and of itself. You have done _nothing_ to shame yourself!" Arwen answered fiercely. She barely knew this woman. But countless conversations with Estel, who could not forgive himself for Isildur's crimes, were rising in her mind.  
  
She could never convince Estel that he was, in her own words, Isildur's heir, not Isildur himself. However, perhaps she could convince this young woman. . .this fragile, human woman who might have been Estel's daughter or granddaughter or niece or sister. . .that she did nothing wrong, in being tempted by Saruman's treachery. Human or Elf, Dwarf or Istari, it mattered not. All were tempted by the One Ring, all were tempted by Sauron, and all were tempted by Saruman.  
  
The important thing was what you did in response to such temptation. She had no way of knowing it, of course, but her thoughts were quite close to Gandalf's when Frodo Baggins lamented the Ring passing to him. "_So do all who live to see such times_," Gandalf told the young Hobbit in the mines of Moria, "_But such things are not for them to decide. The only thing we must decide is what to do with the time that is given to us_."  
  
No, Arwen did not know of that. . .but if she did, she would not have argued with the ancient one. Celia closed her eyes, and said softly, "Sometimes, Arwen, I find myself wondering if some of the Med-jai are right. If my husband could have done better for himself. Married someone stronger, someone who was raised among the Med-jai. That is why I feared Saruman's temptation so very much."  
  
"And do you think that someone who was raised as Ardeth was could have done better? I think not. There is good and bad in all beings, Celia. . .human, Elf, dwarf, Istari. I would imagine the same is true in your time, in your world. Perhaps the fact that you were _not_ raised among the Med-jai, that you were an outsider who came into the world of the Med-jai, is what gave you the strength you needed. I cannot imagine it was easy," Arwen answered.  
  
Celia allowed herself a half smile and replied, "It was not. But Ardeth was worth it. Even when Sanure cut the cinch on my camel's saddle, I never regretted marrying Ardeth. He's the best thing that ever happened to me. . .Ardeth, Miranda, Andreas. I would do anything in the world for them." Arwen had no idea whom Sanure was, or of what Celia spoke, until Seti flashed an image into her mind. . .  
  
A dark-haired woman, who would have been pretty, save for the hatred and jealousy in her eyes, marring her otherwise-perfect features, making a small cut on a leather strap holding a saddle in place. Arwen never saw such a beast before, but supposed it was a camel.  
  
Arwen next saw a heavily pregnant Celia being helped onto the beast, and her heart beat double time. _Yes_, Seti whispered to her, _Sanure attempted to kill my daughter-in-law and my grandson. When the cinch broke, Celia was sent to the ground. . .and she went into premature labor. Only the actions of my betrayer, Imhotep, prevented the deaths of Celia and Andreas_. Arwen's blood ran cold, and she hoped Sanure paid dearly for such treachery.  
  
But instead of commenting on that, Arwen replied quietly, "The man I love, Aragorn, is another one such as Ardeth. We are fortunate, indeed, in the men we love." Even when Arwen wanted to strangle him for his presumption. Celia grinned suddenly, making her eyes light up. Arwen smiled, feeling a balance shift between them. No longer was Arwen seeking to comfort this young woman. Now. . . now something else was forged between them.  
  
"Fortunate. . .but I must admit, there are times when I could happily shoot Ardeth. I love him, more than I can tell you, but the man is the most stubborn being on the face of the planet. Even more stubborn than I!" Celia exclaimed with more than a trace of exasperation. Arwen actually laughed outright, and the young human continued, "Ah, I see you understand exactly what I'm talking about!"  
  
"Entirely too well, mellon nin, entirely too well," Arwen replied, still laughing. In truth, she had few female friends. Her mother went to the Undying Lands years earlier. Her grandmother was in Lothlorien. While Celia wasn't her own age. . .she was a few thousand years short of that mark. . .she was Arwen's counterpart in human terms. Arwen sighed, "My father and my beloved are making my decisions for me. In my best interests, they tell me."  
  
"In your best interests? Funny. . .you don't look like a child to me," Celia replied. Arwen frowned, and the human continued, "It's a saying in my homeland. '_In the best interests of a child_.' It comes into play when parents. . .when parents of a child don't take good care of him or her, and someone else can do a better job. Abuse, neglect, abandonment. I had a friend who was a social worker, and it sickened me, hearing what people do to their children."  
  
There was a bitterness in her new friend's voice. Arwen knew from Aragorn that such things happened in Middle Earth, though it was not often discussed. Such a thing would never happen among the First-born. Arwen asked slowly, "Why do people do such things to their children, then? Life is so short for humans. . .we elves live for thousands of years. Why would humans waste the few years given to them by making their children hate them?"  
  
"Some people are just not strong enough to be parents, Arwen. They lack self-control, or something else. Among my former employers, there were some operatives who talked themselves into believing that abusing their children was perfectly acceptable, because they were 'making their children stronger, making sure they survived.' What rot! The truth is, they were weak, and they took their weakness out on helpless children," Celia replied.  
  
Arwen didn't know how to answer that, what to say to such fury. After a moment, she asked, "You have children, do you not?" When Celia nodded, Arwen continued, "Do you ever wish to harm your children in such a way? Is this. . .is this something within the human race?"  
  
She stopped and thought about it, then, and realized that there were abuses here in Middle Earth as well. Saruman violated the trust placed in him by others, abused the faith granted to him by people like her father and Gandalf, among others. Celia sighed, "Every person had their limits, Arwen. Do I ever reach the point when I would like to lash out? Yes. Of course I do. And then I look at my son or my daughter. They are so small. . .so very helpless. So reliant on me to be the adult. And when they push me, they do not always know better."  
  
Celia paused, then continued, "I am not saying that I am somehow better. I am not superior to anyone, in any way. I just. . ." She stopped and shook her head. Arwen decided to let that topic drop, and instead, allowed silence to reign between them for a few moments. She was grateful that Seti came to her. She missed having another woman to talk to. Missed the company of her mother and grandmother.  
  
She asked next, nodding toward the scene below them, "What are you watching? Whom are those people?" They looked vaguely familiar to her, but from where? Celia looked back as well and smiled faintly. However, there was a haunted expression in her eyes that concerned Arwen. In part because she saw a similar haunted expression in the eyes of her mother after her capture, and before she sailed to the Undying Lands.  
  
"They are. . .you know I am the reincarnation of Seti's daughter-in-law, though she and Rameses were never married in the eyes of men," Celia began. Arwen nodded, and her companion went on, "There were other reincarnations, before Ardeth and myself. Each time they were reincarnated, once the Rameses reincarnate regained his memories, he would push away the Ardath reincarnate, believing himself unworthy of her."  
  
"And they are in that line," Arwen completed, nodding at the two young people making their way down the river. The young man was steering the boat, and said something to the girl that made her laugh. The elven woman saw the human nod out of the corner of her eye, and Arwen continued, "It is before he regains his memories. When was this? I mean, how long ago was this, in your time?"  
  
"About four hundred years ago, give or take. This, by the way, isn't in Egypt. That boat? It's called a gondola. They're in a country called 'Italy.' His name is Niccolo and her name is Carlotta. He was a protector, one of the primary bodyguards for a wealthy Neapolitan prince, and she was the daughter of the prince. After he saved the prince's life, he was rewarded by being named as Carlotta's protector, since she was the most important person in the world to him," Celia explained.  
  
"What happened? Celia? What happened to them?" Arwen asked softly. She couldn't take her eyes from them. They looked so young, so happy. . .and so very much in love. But they were from two separate worlds. She was a princess, in all the ways that mattered, and he was a servant. A trusted servant, yes, but a servant nonetheless. She and Aragorn were both royalty, though in different ways. They at least had that in common. Even if one was Human and the other First-born. But Niccolo and Carlotta? Such a story could only end tragically. And she was right.  
  
In a toneless voice, Celia replied, "Niccolo and Carlotta fell in love. He would not ask for her hand in marriage, because he knew her father would disapprove. Carlotta persuaded him to at least try. On the night he intended to ask, his memories of Rameses returned. At the worst possible time, too. The enemies of the prince attacked the prince's house. There was a terrible battle, and when it was over, Niccolo was dying in Carlotta's arms."  
  
She turned to look at Arwen, adding, "And you know what the saddest part is? Carlotta's father would have agreed to the marriage. Niccolo was the impoverished son of aristocrats, you see. His family needed the money he earned from protecting Carlotta and her family. . .while Carlotta's father bought his title. They could have made it work. But like all the Rameses reincarnates before him, he believed himself unworthy of the Ardath reincarnate. It cost him his life."  
  
The two women fell silent for a long time, each lost in her own thoughts. After a moment, Arwen decided to ask something else. Lifting her head, she looked her companion in the eyes once more and asked, "Celia? Can you tell me what it is like, being a mother? What it is like, to carry a child within you, and then give birth to that child?" This was something with which she had absolutely no experience. Celia's eyes lit up and Arwen caught her breath. Many humans, upon meeting Celia Bey, would dismiss her as a nonentity.  
  
These were the humans who looked solely at a person's shell, and quite frankly, they held little interest to Arwen. But in that moment, even these shallow individuals would have seen the real Celia, when her eyes lit up. She said softly, reverently, "I don't know how to begin to explain it to you. So, I'll show you instead." She took Arwen's hand, whispering, "Close your eyes, Lady Arwen, and I will show you."  
  
. . .  
  
"Any news?"  
  
Aleta Bey Carnahan looked up with a wan smile as her husband entered the room where they kept the computer and her psychology books. She shook her head and Jonathan put his arm around her, leaning his head against hers. Aleta murmured, "Nothing. I just spoke with your sister, and she told me the being who took Ardeth tried to lure Celia to the caves in her dreams, but it didn't work."  
  
"Good lord," Jonathan breathed, and then shook his head, muttering, "If only I kept my mouth shut about those damn caves! None of this would have happened." Aleta put her arms around her husband. She knew that Jonathan blamed himself. . .and for her own reasons, she hadn't told her mother, Acacia, or either of her sisters-in-law yet.  
  
Her mother had her hands full, Acacia was worried about Ardeth and Beni, and Celia was struggling to hold the Med-jai together. A full-time job under the best of circumstances, and these were hardly that. Aleta wanted to handle this herself before pulling her mother, Acacia, and Celia into this. Evelyn. . .Evy was another story. Aleta received the very strong impression that her husband's younger sister blamed herself.  
  
"You are not to blame for this, and I will tolerate no one saying otherwise," Aleta told her husband, making another effort to make him see the truth. None of the Med-jai blamed him (however, the same couldn't be said of her brother's wife. Why, Aleta had no idea, considering she didn't discover the caves, nor was she there when Ardeth was taken, but they needed someone to blame, and Celia was a most convenient target.)  
  
"But. . ." Jonathan began. Aleta turned in his arms, all too aware that this tension wasn't good for her or the baby. But what could she do? Abandon her family? Not likely! Aleta cupped his face in her hands, and Jonathan sighed, "When I met you, Aleta, all I could think was, '_Carnahan, don't screw this up_.' I could hardly believe that someone like you. . .so beautiful and smart and strong and brave. . . could possibly want me."  
  
Aleta started to speak, started to protest, but Jonathan wasn't finished. He continued with a half laugh that wasn't a laugh at all, "I mean, for God's sake! Your brother is Ardeth Bey, one of the bravest. . .admittedly craziest. . .men I've ever known! He's everything my father wanted me to be! Brave and honorable. . .I would be the proudest man alive if Terrence grew up to be anything like his uncle Ardeth!"  
  
He looked at her then, anguish in his eyes, adding, "And you married me. Jonathan the clown, Jonathan the screw-up, Jonathan the greedy, Jonathan the exaggerator. And now, because of me, your brother. . .a man I admire more than I can say and envy almost as much. . . may not live to see his children grow up! How can I forgive myself for that, Aleta? More than that, how can you forgive me?"  
  
"Because when my brother's back was turned and his guard was down, you killed the man who would have killed him. You saved my brother's life, Jonathan, and never think I've forgotten that. I have not!" Aleta replied fiercely. Everyone called her the gentle one among the siblings, the quiet one. But what so many forgot was that it was the gentle ones whom were the most fierce. It was also something Jonathan forgot sometimes. On the other hand, it was something both of her sisters-in-law knew well.  
  
Her husband's mouth opened wide, and Aleta continued, "I know you admire my brother. I do, too. I love him more than words can say. He is a wonderful chieftain and an even better big brother. He would do anything for his family, for his people, for his wife, for his children. But Ardeth is only human, Jonathan! He becomes frightened, he becomes angry, he loses his temper, and he makes mistakes!" Jonathan was staring at her in shock. Taking advantage of this brief lull, Aleta reminded her husband, "I was there, Jonathan, when Celia went into premature labor. Imhotep asked me to assist, if only to make sure none of the Med-jai could accuse him if something went wrong. Remember?"  
  
Jonathan looked away, also remembering that terrible time, but Aleta wasn't finished. She spoke urgently, and from the heart, "I saw the look in my brother's eyes when he thought he would lose Celia for good in this lifetime. There was pure terror in his eyes, Jonathan, terror, and the beginnings of madness. It frightened me, then Imhotep said something, something I've never forgotten. He told me, '_he has been betrayed, by his own people_.' And I understood."  
  
Aleta sighed, explaining, "Ardeth sacrificed for our people. He sacrificed most of his childhood, and his entire adult life, to taking care of us. He finally found a woman to love and to love him. They were having a child together, and he was happy. Happier than anyone of us can remember him being, even before Papa died. And for one of our people to stab him in the back, as Sanure did. . .I found I could not blame my brother, Jonathan, for that hint of madness. For I surely would have felt the same."  
  
They were both silent for a long moment, then Aleta told her husband, "He blamed himself for a long time, did you know that? My brother. . .it is one of his greatest flaws. He blamed himself for something he could not control. He does that. He takes too much responsibility, and Andreas always took too little. Mama thinks Ardeth takes too much responsibility because Andreas never took enough."  
  
Jonathan lifted his eyes to meet hers, and Aleta explained, "I see the same thing in you. I know what you used to be, supposedly. But the man I know, the man with whom I fell in love, that is someone entirely different. The man with whom I fell in love risked his health to find an antidote and bring it to us. That man is the same man who saved my brother's life in Ahm Shere, the same man who performed half a dozen heroic acts. A man who, unlike my brother and O'Connell, was never trained as a warrior."  
  
"I just. . .I've always loved Evy, you understand? But I wanted a brother, too. At first, when Evy and Rick married, I thought I would get one. That didn't work out the way I wanted it to, and then. . . Ardeth was part of our lives, especially after Ahm Shere and he found Celia again. Aleta. . .I know you know how Nassor felt about Rameses. And. . .I. . .I've always looked on Ardeth as the brother I've always wanted, even as I envied him," Jonathan replied.  
  
Aleta did understand. Her husband both loved and envied her older brother. He was the man whom Jonathan most wanted to be like, even as he struggled with his own lack of courage, as he saw it. She said, "Jonathan, you know that Celia brought a great many tapes with her from the United States, and Galen and Jason have provided her with more since she joined the Med-jai. One of the favorite live-action shows she watched in the United States was one called '_Farscape_,' and I watched it with her."  
  
Live action as opposed to anime, which Celia also loved. Aleta continued, "In one of the episodes, a reference is made. That each man is a different kind of hero. I will be the first to say that my brother is one of the greatest heroes the Med-jai will ever have. He is a great hero, just as our father was. But you, my husband, you are a hero as well. You have risked your life, and saved the lives of others. You, my Jonathan, have nothing to be ashamed of. And I will ask Imhotep's help in casting the hom-dai on anyone who says otherwise. . . including O'Connell!"  
  
Now he smiled, and now Jonathan looked like he was starting to believe her. He replied, "Well, there's no need for that, love!" Aleta smiled back, relieved. Jonathan was quiet for a moment, then said, "I can say this to you, my 'Leta, because you'll understand. I do love him, Leta, as the brother I never had. And all I truly want is for him to come safely. Tell him, in words that won't embarrass him, just how much he means to me."  
  
Aleta touched his face, replying, "That's all any of us want. And Jonathan, it will happen. Ardeth will find his way back to us. No matter how long it takes." Jonathan sighed and allowed his head to rest on her shoulder once more. Aleta gently stroked his brown hair, knowing that this was not over. . .but at least now, Jonathan could work through the guilt and grief gnawing at his soul.  
  
. . .  
  
Ardeth was finding his way back to consciousness. He barely remembered passing out. . . there were few things he did remember, after he and Aragorn reached Helm's Deep. One thing he did remember was how very impressive it was, this fortress built into the side of a mountain. Aragorn told him that a sight even more impressive was at Amon Hen. He proceeded to describe it, but Ardeth was, by that time, struggling just to stay upright in the saddle. The Med-jai profoundly hoped Aragorn wouldn't mind repeating what he said once more, when Ardeth was more capable of paying attention.  
  
For now, he was aided in his attempts to wake up by grumbling beside his bed. Ardeth relaxed and shut out the pain, so he could focus on the grumbling. Unfortunately, it seemed like his companion was speaking something other than the common tongue, because he didn't understand a word of what was said. Then there was a crashing sound, and Ardeth did something was quite possibly the most idiotic thing since he arrived here. He tried to sit up.  
  
However, his abdomen and ribs protested quite loudly, and Ardeth collapsed back against the comfortable bed rather gracelessly. In fact, that was more than likely the first time he actually allowed his body to simply flop. On the other hand, it wasn't as if his body actually gave him a choice this time. He lay still, trying to work his way through the pain, and a familiar voice said, now in a language Ardeth could understand, "Ach, lie still, laddie! I was hoping to spend time with one person who actually seems to have some common sense around here!"  
  
Gimli. He was the only one who ever called Ardeth 'lad' or 'laddie.' Ardeth managed to gasp out, "I apologize for disappointing you, Gimli." A gentle squeeze of his shoulder was Gimli's response. For all that Gimli liked to talk, he evidently understood that there were times when it was best to say nothing at all.  
  
Ardeth could appreciate that. Back before Celia came into his life, his best friend was Horus, shot out of the sky by Lock-nah over Ahm Shere. Horus, who asked so little, and simply listened to Ardeth. Though he now had his wife and his children, and Celia's arrival in his life opened so many doors for him, Ardeth found he still missed Horus. It was a hard thing to share with your wife. He didn't want her to think that she and the children weren't enough.  
  
Strangely enough, at least for him, he actually admitted that to his English sister. Evy was sympathetic and even understood what he was feeling. However, she didn't think he was giving Celia enough credit. When he questioned her what that meant, Evy put it this way. . .missing Horus was no different than her missing a favorite cat when she was growing up. It didn't mean that Rick, Alex, Nefertiri, and Jonathan weren't enough. It wasn't the same thing at all. . .and he and Celia went through so much together. She, of all people, would understand.  
  
Gimli said after a few moments, "You do not disappoint me, lad." There was another long silence, then Ardeth opened his eyes and looked at his new friend. Gimli looked concerned, and the Med-jai was relatively certain that it had nothing to do with the coming Uruk-hai invasion. He was proven correct a moment later when Gimli said, "There are times, Ardeth, when I think the Fellowship did shatter at Amon Hen."  
  
The Med-jai looked at him, not saying a word. Gimli continued after a moment, "Tis just a disagreement among friends, I know. The tension is rising for us all. Legolas is afraid. We all are." Ah. So, there was an argument between Legolas and Aragorn. Over what? Gimli continued, needing no prompting from Ardeth, "Tis a terrible thing to see out there, Ardeth. There are. . .children defending Helm's Deep, Ardeth. Some as young as eight or ten years of age. Farmers, ploughboys. . .not a soldier among them."  
  
Ardeth thought once more about Ahm Shere, and the young boys who stared at him with such trust in their eyes as that second wave of Anubis Warriors swept toward them. Gimli continued, "Others. . . others are broken old men, who have never lifted a sword or a bow. These are the defenders of Helm's Deep, Ardeth. . .old men who have seen too many winters, and children who have seen too few. And against an army such as the Uruk-hai with so many numbers and so little mercy. . .they stand not a chance."  
  
The Med-jai listened intently, seeing all of this in his mind. Then he asked Gimli, "Are those boys and those men defending Helm's Deep because their king said so. . .or because they wish to? Obviously, the former is true. . .but do you think, Gimli, that they could simply remain inside the fortress walls, and allow others to fight in their place?" Gimli frowned a little, and Ardeth continued, "Allow me to give you an example."  
  
Gimli nodded his agreement and the Med-jai explained, "My wife, my sisters, and my mother are not warriors. They have been trained to defend their homes, but they were not trained as warriors. They do not fight in battles. Raids, yes. Many times, I have seen my wife defend our home with a rifle or a staff, occasionally even a sword, and often with a dagger. She is not a warrior. But she will defend her home. . .and she will not ask someone else to stand in her place. The same is true of my sisters and my mother."  
  
Gimli said nothing, and Ardeth went on, "This is their home, Gimli. Their families. They may not have the experience that you, Legolas, Aragorn and I have. But they will do what they must to protect their wives, their children, their grandchildren. Two years ago, an unholy army was raised in the desert. I led the entire Med-jai force against it. We had commanders as old as sixty-five. . .and green young warriors who had only just passed their rites of manhood."  
  
He closed his eyes, remembering. He remembered Horus shot out of the sky. He remembered Rick pleading with him to help find Alex. The fight with Lock-nah, and the dangerous journey back through the unholy oasis. He remembered finding his men, and leading the thousands of Med-jai to the sands surrounding Ahm Shere. He remembered watching in silent, stunned horror as the Anubis Warriors burst up through the sand.  
  
The battle that followed, and slaying the last of the Anubis Warriors in that first wave. Followed by a sense that something was wrong. . .they won the battle too easily. Ardeth left his warriors and ran to the next rise. . .feeling his blood turn to ice in his veins at the sight before him. The second wave of Anubis warriors was coming toward them, looking like huge ants against the sand of the desert. It took all of his self-control, his hard-won self-control, to keep from falling on his knees as he whispered, "God help us."  
  
Ardeth drew himself back to the current battle, saying, "We battled the Anubis Warriors in the sand, while the O'Connells battled another pair of foes inside the pyramid. There were two waves of those beasts. . .as un- natural as your Uruk-hai. And just as ugly. Ugly not just in appearance, but in purpose. They would destroy all who stood in their way. The first wave was defeated, but we lost many men in so doing."  
  
Gimli was just staring at him silently, his eyes never leaving Ardeth's face. The Med-jai continued, "There was a second wave. Twice as many, and they were coming toward us so rapidly. There was no time to rest. My men were already exhausted, some were injured. We stood no chance against them. But stood against them, we did. If we did not, we would have lost the ones we loved most. And after they went through the Med-jai, they would have spread to the rest of the world. We could not allow that."  
  
Gimli was nodding his understanding, and Ardeth continued, "And so we stood there, a single line of black. I looked up and down the line, standing a little in front of my men. And all I could see when I looked from one side to the other was the black robes of my men. We swore to fight until death. . .even though it was hopeless." Ardeth stopped, remembering how terrified he was as that mass of death swarmed toward his Med-jai. He remembered being scared before, but never terrified. Not until that day.  
  
Gimli said softly, "Hopeless, aye. But you're here now, Ardeth. What happened? What miracle allowed you and your men to live that day?" The Med-jai could tell from Gimli's expression that he understood exactly what Ardeth was trying to say. He saw the parallels Ardeth meant him to see, and probably a few that Ardeth never even considered. He remembered that happening with his womenfolk in the past. He just never knew what his mother, his sisters, or Celia would come up with. . .much less Anck!  
  
"Rick O'Connell killed the. . .commander. . .of the Anubis Warriors inside the pyramid. With his death, they disintegrated into black sand. Gimli. . .Gandalf has gone in search of Eomer," Ardeth reminded his new friend, immensely grateful that he remembered the name of Eowyn's older brother. Gimli looked at him, then looked away. Ardeth, however, wasn't about to give up that easily. The chieftain said, his voice firm, "The fight is not yet lost, Master Dwarf. I have never given up without a fight, and I will not start now."  
  
Gimli looked at him for a long moment, and then began laughing. It was a joyful sound, and the dwarf said, "I never thought I would thank Saruman for anything, once I learned of his treachery. But the day he chose you as Aragorn's mirror in darkness was a fortunate day indeed for Middle Earth and for the Fellowship. Come, Ardeth, let me help you up. It is time we made ready for the battle. To the armory, lad. To the armory!"  
  
. . .  
  
Looking back now, it almost seemed laughable to Gimli, son of Gloin, that he actually wanted to kill Ardeth Bey when he first saw the young man. Oh, he was foolish enough to think that Ardeth served the Dark Lord. . .but he was also dwarf enough to admit that he was wrong. Ardeth was a good lad. Gimli wasn't entirely sure why Saruman was permitted to pull him back through time to this time and this place, but he was grateful Ardeth was here.  
  
He had little opportunity to see the man fight. During the warg attack, Gimli was too focused on staying alive and getting those damnable wargs off his body to really pay attention to their newest comrade in a fight. However, he did know that Ardeth was loyal and smart. Gimli and Legolas accompanied Theoden to Helm's Deep because it was what Aragorn would have wanted. But in their hearts, each wished they searched for Aragorn instead.  
  
Which is what Ardeth did. It certainly wasn't the most sensible thing to do. He was badly injured, though he fought it for the entire journey. . .and Ardeth didn't know Middle Earth. But he did it, nonetheless. He searched for Aragorn, found him, and brought their friend back to them. Of course, Gimli could have done with Ardeth fainting almost on top of Gimli, but that was hardly the boy's fault!  
  
Once Ardeth was settled, Legolas and Gimli joined Aragorn in his meeting with the king. And what a waste of breath that was! When they failed to persuade the king, the trio went next to the armory, where the young boys and old men of Rohan were being supplied with weaponry. It was there that the cracks appeared. During this journey, Gimli learned that Aragorn and Legolas were friends for a very long time. And it was only that knowledge which truly kept Gimli from fearing for the future of the Fellowship.  
  
Legolas was angry and frightened. . .angry at the youth and age of the newest defenders. Frightened, because he knew he would watch many of them die. Old men and children. He wasn't afraid for himself, though Legolas knew he would die in the fight ahead. At least, that there was a very good chance he would die. Nay, he was afraid for these old men and these children, who were afraid, and who should be afraid.  
  
They would die. Aragorn, losing patience, retorted in the common tongue, "Then I shall die as one of them!" Strange, how easy it was to forget that Aragorn was a human. These were his people. . . not people of Gondor, true, but people of Rohan. Humans. His people. How could they expect anything else of him? How could they expect Aragorn to distance himself, when his very nature. . .one of the things they loved most about him. . .would never allow that?  
  
When Aragorn stalked out, Legolas made to follow his friend, but Gimli talked him out of it. He needed time. He needed space. He needed to be left alone, at least for now. Instead, each turned their attention to helping where they could. Legolas, however, remained troubled by his argument with Aragorn, and escaped to do some thinking of his own. Unfortunately, that left Gimli alone. . .who had worries and fears of his own.  
  
The dwarf sought comfort in the company of their newest ally. Ardeth, in his ever so humble opinion, deserved that title more than Theoden. Ardeth at least had sense to understand that Helm's Deep was a trap, that they were being herded toward a place from whence there was no escape. Ardeth was younger, and perhaps governed a smaller area, but he had infinitely more sense than Theoden, who may have spent too much time under the thumb of Saruman. _Quite frankly, his time as the treacherous wizard's puppet may have dulled his mind_, Gimli thought.  
  
It bothered Gimli not at all that Ardeth was asleep. Oh, he had to be a little quieter than usual. He didn't mind that. Ardeth needed to rest. Unfortunately, Gimli grumbled a little louder than he meant to about his two errant friends, and woke the young man. He was sure Ardeth didn't even realize what he said, much less to be heard, but as Ardeth collapsed back against the bed where he was deposited a few hours earlier, he groaned, "When will I learn to avoid such stupidity?"  
  
Which was a classic reason why Gimli liked the boy so much. Well, it wasn't just because he was a fine ally and a reasonable young man. He was sensible, too! And, he had a sense of humor. Though, to hear Ardeth tell it, it seemed some of his friends back in his own time, and back in his Egypt, took a little time to realize that. On the way down to the armory, Gimli distracted Ardeth from the ever-present pain in his belly by asking him about his friends in his own time. . . including these O'Connells whom he mentioned so frequently.  
  
Gimli learned that there were four of them. . .at present. There was Rick, who slayed the commander of the Anubis Warriors. Evelyn, Rick's wife, and the reincarnation of Rameses' sister Nefertiri. That made her, in a roundabout way, Ardeth's sister, and he loved her dearly. She was as smart as Rick was. . .whatever he was. Ardeth used some passing strange words to describe his friend Rick O'Connell, and Gimli promised himself that he would ask about that. Later. But apparently, Evelyn was also his wife Celia's best friend. . .among the living, at least.  
  
And then there were the two children. . .Alex, who was ten, and Nefertiri, who was two years of age. Alex was also the best friend of Ardeth's nephew, Darius, and he was quite capable of waking the dead. Literally. Nefertiri, or 'Nef' as her family called her, was a two year old child. . .a toddler, with the same charming habit of saying 'no' to everything. Nef, Gimli also learned, was the reincarnation of Rameses and Ardath's daughter, Miriam.  
  
Gimli didn't remember hearing about Miriam, but he chose not to interrupt the boy. So long as Ardeth was distracted, it was easier for him to stand upright. If Ardeth remembered his injury, Gimli wasn't entirely certain that he could help the boy stand up again after falling down, or doubling over. Most of the time, Gimli didn't mind the short stature that came with being a dwarf. However, this was a notable exception. . .Ardeth was so damnably tall!  
  
He wondered, briefly, if everyone in Ardeth's time was as tall as he was, but chose not to ask. Instead, he listened as his companion told him about Evelyn's brother Jonathan, who was married to Ardeth's youngest sister Aleta. The criss-crossed relations were enough to give Gimli a horrible headache, but again, he maintained his self-control. Ardeth said as they neared the armory, "You know, Gimli, in some ways, you remind me of O'Connell."  
  
Gimli very gently removed Ardeth's hand from his shoulder and placed it against the wall, so Ardeth had something to lean against while Gimli opened the door to the armory. He asked as the door creaked open, "And how is that, lad? From what you've told me, Ardeth, I hardly think it's likely that this O'Connell is a dwarf, such as me. . .though, at least, you have dwarves in your time!"  
  
Ardeth laughed at that, then groaned, pressing his hand to his side. He muttered something in a language Gimli didn't know, and the dwarf wasn't sure he wanted to understand. However, Ardeth continued, "La, Gimli. . .he is no dwarf. In fact, he is a bit taller than I am. No. No, he is like you in that he uses bluster to protect himself. My wife tells me that Rick's bluster is as much of a shield as my stoicism."  
  
"Taller than you? Ardeth, do you come from a land of giants?" Gimli blurted out as he helped Ardeth into the armory. His friend roared with laughter this time, then doubled over in agony. He fell to his knees, and Gimli pushed the door shut, before easing Ardeth to the ground. Rather than try to help him stand up, maybe this would be easier. Gimli added, "I'm sorry, lad, I didn't mean to make you laugh."  
  
"There is. . .no reason. . .oh. No reason for you to apologize. I will be well," Ardeth forced out, then groaned again. He closed his eyes, tightly gritting his teeth, and Gimli's hand tightened on his shoulder. Never mind what Ardeth said. . .the dwarf still felt guilty. He didn't mean to make the boy laugh, but in all honesty, he wasn't thinking about what he said. He just blurted the words out. Twas a bad habit of his.  
  
At last, Ardeth rasped, "I have never fought in armor of any kind, and in truth, I am not sure if I know how. Do what you must, Master Gimli, and I will help you as much as I can." Not put on armor? Was the boy suicidal?  
  
Another look convinced Gimli that this was not the case. . .that, indeed, Ardeth had no experience fighting with armor. Still, he felt duty bound to tell his friend, "Ardeth, you have a stab wound and broken ribs. You must fight with some sort of protection!" He didn't understand why Ardeth grinned at that. For all that he liked and respected Ardeth. . .aye, and even trusted him, now. . .there were times when he didn't understand him.  
  
"My apologies, Gimli. I was merely thinking of something my wife would say in this situation. Let me get up, and I will help you. I have never fought in armor, and it is an excellent incentive not to take foolish chances," Ardeth replied. He pushed himself to his feet, barely biting back a gasp of pain as he did so. But he was standing on his own two feet, without help from Gimli, and he said, "Now. Where shall we start?"  
  
. . .  
  
It seemed to Aragorn, son of Arathorn, that today was a day of confrontations. They seemed to come one after another. First, of course, came the warg attack. Was that only this morning? He could no longer be sure as he lost track of time, knew not how long he was unconscious. How long since they left Edoras, how long since Gandalf went out in search of the Rohirrim? He could no longer remember. And really, did it matter?  
  
Of course not. There was the battle this morning, if it was, indeed, this morning. There was a part of Aragorn that wanted to be angry with Ardeth, for not accompanying Legolas and Gimli to Helm's Deep. Another part warned him that his 'little brother' fulfilled part of his destiny here in Middle Earth. . .and Aragorn would not argue with that. Besides, that particular decision may have helped to save Aragorn's life.  
  
As they rode toward Helm's Deep, Aragorn regained more of his strength, while Ardeth's own slowly gave way. Ardeth was weakening. . .Aragorn could feel it in the way his body slumped forward against the horse's neck. The Ranger described Helm's Deep, hoping the sound of his voice gave Ardeth a point of focus, before they headed into the mountain fortress. And he heard the whispers of 'he's alive,' but didn't pay much mind. He had other concerns.  
  
Especially not after he heard Gimli bellowing, "Where is he? Where is he, I'm gonna kill him!" Aragorn couldn't help his slight smile as he dismounted, then helped Ardeth down as well. The soldiers of Rohan helped to steady the exhausted Med-jai, though they were still wary of him. Gimli broke through the crowd, his eyes lighting up as he saw Aragorn. He threw his arms around Aragorn, calling him the canniest, most reckless man he ever knew. Ardeth looked as if he was barely there, and Gimli added, "I would say 'luckiest' as well, but I wager Ardeth has something to do with that."  
  
It was decided that they would see the king after getting Ardeth settled. . .this decision made after the sudden collapse of their new friend. Aragorn wasn't surprised that Ardeth collapsed. Only at the timing. Together, the trio picked him up and carried him to a room where he would rest. He needed to rest. And later, one of them (or all) would check on him. Lady Eowyn promised to look after him.  
  
Legolas and Gimli stayed a few more moments, while Aragorn went to speak with the king. He found him on his throne, the ever-present Gamling a short distance away. Aragorn was tired, wounded, soaked to the skin. . .he could feel the sweat dripping off his face and hair. . .but this simply couldn't wait. After the pleasantries were exchanged, Legolas and Gimli joined them. It was necessary. They needed to hear this as well.  
  
The conversation didn't go well. Aragorn told of the Uruk-hai that he and Ardeth saw on their way here. To his dying day, Aragorn didn't think he would ever forget that sight. It sent chills down his spine, and turned his blood to ice water. And he couldn't even begin to comprehend Ardeth's reaction. . .after all, Aragorn grew up knowing about orcs and dwarfs and elves. The king said, "A great host, you say?"  
  
"All Isengard is emptied," Aragorn had answered. The king listened in silence, and Aragorn hoped to finish this briefing, so he could find some place and rest for a time. Not a long time. . .but his body ached with the wounds he sustained in the fall and with weariness. He wanted to check Ardeth's abdominal wound again, make sure the young man didn't further injure himself when he came for Aragorn.  
  
"How many?" the king finally asked. His back was to Aragorn, so the Gondorian couldn't see the other man's expression. It was unnecessary, however. During his more than seventy years, Aragorn learned how to listen for changes in expression, even when he couldn't see a person's face. It was a necessary skill to have. . .as a healer, as a Ranger, as a warrior. And even in love.  
  
He had pulled back from thoughts of Arwen, still confused about the visions he had before Ardeth found him. _Was Arwen still here? Why had she not gone to the Undying Lands_? Enough of this. He had a job to do. He would do it. Aragorn replied, "Ten thousand strong, at least." The king's body stiffened as Aragorn's words rang out in the hall. Behind him, Aragorn sensed Legolas and Gimli's eyes upon him.  
  
"Ten thousand?" Theoden asked, sounding both horrified and astonished. He turned to face Aragorn, and the Ranger saw that he was correct. Theoden's expression was exactly what he expected it to be. Unfortunately, Aragorn wasn't finished with the bad news. He had no idea what Theoden did and didn't hear while Saruman's puppet. But it was best to err on the side of caution.  
  
"It is an army bred for a single purpose," the Ranger said. Theoden's eyes remained upon him as Aragorn paused, then added, "to destroy the world of men. They'll be here by nightfall." Theoden's eyes narrowed.  
  
"Let them come!" the king snapped defiantly. He turned on his heel and stormed away. With a sigh, the three friends followed Theoden as he issued orders to Gamling. All males capable of doing so would defend Helm's Deep this night. Even the ones who never wielded a weapon before. As they followed the king, Aragorn and Gimli in particular tried to convince the king of what they faced.  
  
When Aragorn asked him to call for aid, Theoden retorted, "And who will come? Elves? Dwarves? Strange young warriors from a distant future who might well be the tool of Sauron himself? We are not so lucky in our friends as you. The old alliances are dead." Gimli growled low in his throat at this insult to Ardeth, but any reply he would have made died in his throat when Legolas put a restraining hand on his shoulder.  
  
And so the argument continued. Theoden was unimpressed with Aragorn's faith that Gondor would answer a call for help. He was equally unimpressed with Gimli's assertion that these were not mindless orcs. . ._they were Uruk-hai_, the dwarf said. And still, Theoden did not listen. Aragorn at last gave up and went to the armory to aid in the distribution of weapons. And it was there that the third confrontation of the day came.  
  
This time, with Legolas. Aragorn sighed, rubbing his hand over his eyes. The Ranger had said, looking around at the men and boys assembled in the armory, "Farmers, farriers, stableboys. . .these are no soldiers." He shook his head, turning his attention to his friends. He thought briefly about waking Ardeth, then decided against it. No. Let the boy sleep. They would have to wake him soon enough.  
  
"Most have seen too many winters," Gimli put in. Legolas, his eyes reflecting his own frustration and anger with Theoden's willfulness, echoed Gimli's sentiments with an 'or too few.' Aragorn nodded in agreement with his friends' sentiments. They were speaking the truth, after all. He saw boys as young as eight and ten fitted for helmets and armor. They didn't look excited. . .they looked frightened. He was not the only one who noticed.  
  
"Look at them. . .they're frightened. I can see it in their eyes," Legolas stated. That drew him more than one sharp look, as if the people of Rohan resented this insult to them. But that wasn't why Legolas switched to his own dialect, saying, "And they should be! Three hundred. . . against ten thousand!" There was a bitter disbelief to his voice, as if he couldn't comprehend what was happening. . .or didn't want to believe it.  
  
"They have more hope of defending themselves here than at Edoras," Aragorn answered in the same tongue, though he knew his argument sounded weak. But what else could he do? What else could any of them do? Aragorn saw the same fear Legolas did. But he also saw determination. They would not let down their womenfolk. . .and nor would they let down their king, who called upon them to do this.  
  
Legolas looked at him in sheer exasperation, retorting, "Aragorn! They cannot win this fight! They are all going to die!" Legolas was frightened, too. Not for himself, no. He feared watching these boys and these old men die.  
  
Aragorn knew that. He also knew that the chances were good that he would die tonight. But that was the fate of all Men, eventually. He told his friend, his voice raised in the common tongue, "Then I shall die as one of them!" Why could Legolas not understand? Why could Theoden not understand? And the one person who might understand. . .could not listen right now. He had to get out of there. He had to leave that armory before he said more than he wanted to.  
  
What he said would be of no surprise to Legolas, but Legolas knew him well. Aragorn needed to leave, needed to find peace of some kind before the battle. He found it in a most unexpected place. Haleth, son of Hamas. A boy of about fourteen or fifteen, who looked at him with trusting eyes as he told Aragorn, "The men are saying that we will not live out the night. . .they say it is hopeless."  
  
Aragorn rose to his feet, not answering at first. Instead, he tested the blade for the boy, testing its balance, how easy it would be for the boy to yield. If it was solid, if it would hold together. If it was well made. Satisfied with the quality of the work, Aragorn told the boy, "This is a good sword, Haleth, son of Hamas." He handed it to the youngster, putting his hand on Haleth's shoulder and leaning down to look into the boy's eyes, adding, "There is always hope."  
  
And speaking the words, he knew them to be true. Feeling his flagging spirits revived, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, returned to the now-empty armory. It was time he girded himself for battle. He welcomed the rush of blood in his veins, welcomed the new sense of determination and purpose. One by one, each item was added to his protective clothing and weaponry, until at last, only his sword remained.  
  
As he reached for the sword, he found it placed in his hand unexpectedly. Startled, for he heard no one come in, Aragorn turned to look at Legolas. The elf prince smiled at him and said quietly, "We have trusted you this far, and you have not led us astray. Forgive me. I was wrong to despair." An apology, and an affirmation, that Legolas would stand at his side. . .right where Aragorn needed him to be.  
  
In elven, Aragorn told his long-time friend, "There is nothing to forgive, Legolas." The pair shared a smile, and a brotherly embrace of two warriors. A rustle from behind him drew Aragorn's attention, and he turned to see Gimli struggling with a chain mail suit of armor, a very much-awake Ardeth trying to help him straighten it out. Legolas and Aragorn exchanged an amused glance as Gimli grumbled about the chain mail being tight across the chest.  
  
Ardeth was smiling too, his dark eyes filled with mischief. Ardeth and Gimli. . .almost as unlikely a friendship as that between an elf and a dwarf. But during the last few days, Aragorn saw Gimli's initial suspicion of Ardeth melt away. The dwarf would protect Ardeth with the same ferocity he demonstrated toward Aragorn and Legolas, and the rest of the Fellowship. Now, Ardeth was one of them.  
  
Aragorn was ready to tease Gimli, when a horn sounded. He knew that sound. So did Legolas, who exclaimed, "That is no orc horn!"  
  
Ardeth looked up, his expression reflecting confusion. But only confusion, not concern. Aragorn listened intently, his heart pounding. Legolas was right. The four ran from the armory and toward the gates of the fortress. Legolas was right. That was no orc horn. No, it was elven. Aid, the aid Theoden refused to request, had arrived. . .and unless Aragorn missed his guess, it came from a most unexpected source.  
  
Perhaps he was more right than he thought. . .perhaps there was more hope than they realized. Only time would tell. Four or five days out from Edoras, Aragorn knew only that the people of this fortress, of this land, now had a fighting chance against the Uruk-hai invaders. And that was all any of them asked. . .a chance.


	14. So It Begins

Reviews!  
  
Terreis: I promised you would be in the shout-outs, and I'm a woman of my word. Yup, I did indeed have Arwen and Celia meet. Elrond's expression, I imagine, was about the same as it was in the Council, when Merry and Pippin popped up. And I'm very glad you enjoyed the Ardeth and Gimli interaction. I started writing this because of the similarities between Aragorn and Ardeth. . .but Gimli insisted on making his presence known, as well. And, dear heart, one of these days, you'll have to explain what 'spooty' means, exactly. I figured it out, somewhat, from the context.  
  
Bel: Mmmm, not sure what time it was here, when it was two pm in France. I don't have my clock equivalent handy. Yup, I am, indeed, American. Correct, the scriptwriter is actually responsible for Hafez's shameful behavior, but let's face it. . .weasels are weasels. I like Beni, too. Not sure what the translation for that is, as I speak Spanish, rather than French, but based on the context, I would say it's someone along the lines of Elsa Schneider in _Indiana Jones in the Last Crusade_. Yes, guilt is a recurring theme in my stories. There's a reason for that. When I was twelve years old, my best friend at the time was killed in a traffic accident. For a long time, I blamed myself. . .at the time of the accident, we were supposed to be in New Jersey, where Alexia lived, but my father lost his job. For a long time, I believed if I was there, I could have saved her. I'm far too acquainted with the consequences of guilt. Rameses/Ardeth still hasn't learned his lesson, as far as guilt is concerned. . .only that he needs his soulmate in his life. Sometimes, these lessons take a long time to learn. Celia has her own problems with guilt. . .particularly where her brother Jason is concerned. She's only five years older than Jason, yet she was the major mother figure in his life. Raising him was not her responsibility, it was the responsibility of her parents. Thank you for the nitpick. . .I actually learned that after I posted the chapter, regarding Elves and Men. I'll get there. Promise. Next time I go to Barnes and Noble, I'll get the trilogy. . .or one of the large book chains, since the book section at Wal-Mart only has the most recent releases.  
  
Sailor Elf: (giggles) I thought it was funny, too. I could just hear Gimli saying that, almost in astonishment. I wasn't entirely sure how tall he was. . .sometimes, he came up to Aragorn's waist, and at other times, to his shoulder. . .and Ardeth is taller than Aragorn. I figured you meant Celia kicking Saruman's butt, but it could have gone either way.  
  
Aria-hannah: Thank you, dear. Not sure if I'll have a chance for all four to meet, at least not in this story. However, there will be two sequels involving characters from Middle Earth, so it's a possibility.  
  
On with the story!  
  
Part Thirteen  
  
He knew there was a chance he would die here. It was a chance he was willing to take. He was March Warden, and it was his honor to carry out the wishes of Lady Galadriel. As Haldir led his elven brethren to the fortress of Helm's Deep, he did not concern himself with the reasons his Lady asked this of him. . .nor did he wonder why Elrond of Rivendell agreed (although, at least some of it had to do with Elrond's human foster son, he was certain).  
  
Instead, he kept his eyes trained on the fortress held by Helm Hammerhand for so long, the fortress renamed in his honor. As the elven army marched up toward the fortress, the gates were raised. Even without his elven hearing, Haldir could have heard the shouts to open the gate. However, it still made him laugh. Quietly. To himself. There was the matter of keeping up appearances, after all.  
  
As they continued their march to the keep, Haldir saw a variety of expressions on the faces of those who defended Helm's Deep. . . awed and hopeful being the two most prevalent, and everything in between the two. Some, however, looked almost afraid, for they obviously knew not what to think. Chief among this last group, interestingly enough, was the king himself, who came out to meet them. Theoden King said, his eyes sweeping over the elven warriors, "How is this possible?" There was a mixture of astonishment and fear in his voice. How did they know to come here? Among other questions.

Haldir bowed slightly, allowing himself a small smile, and replied, "I bring word from Elrond of Rivendell. An alliance once existed between Elves and Men. Long ago, we fought, and died, together." As he spoke, Haldir detected the three remaining members of the Fellowship, along with a strange man. Lady Galadriel told him of this man. Haldir looked directly at the four, adding, "We come to honor that allegiance."  
  
Aragorn and Legolas were the first to reach him, followed by the strange man, and the dwarf who breathed so loudly, Haldir could have shot him in the dark. Gimli, that was his name. Aragorn said, his own relief obviously, "Mae govannen. You are most welcome!" He started to give the traditional elven greeting, and rightly so, as the foster son of Elrond. However, he quickly cast that aside, and instead, embraced Haldir.  
  
The March Warden was a bit startled, then smiled slightly, and returned the embrace. Aragorn pulled back, looking a touch embarrassed, but the relief was stronger than the embarrassment. Legolas, prince of Mirkwood, took his turn, gripping Haldir's forearm. The elven emissary said as he released the prince of Mirkwood, "We are proud to fight alongside Men once more." There was a harrumphing sound from the dwarf, but Haldir delicately chose to ignore that. After all, he spoke so eloquently of Lady Galadriel's beauty, did he not?  
  
Aragorn gently pulled the strange young man forward, saying, "Haldir, I wish you to meet our new ally and friend. Ardeth Bey, chieftain of the Med-jai." Chieftain, was it? Haldir knew from a variety of sources that Aragorn's own father was a chieftain before his unfortunate death many decades earlier. Even more interesting. . . Aragorn's attitude toward the dark-haired man seemed to be that of a protective older brother.  
  
Legolas added, "Ardeth was kind enough to aid our friends, Meriadoc and Peregrin, when they were chased into Fangorn Forest." Only a lifetime of self-control kept Haldir's face expressionless. This man aided a pair of hobbits, whom he had never met? Lady Galadriel spoke truly when she reassured Haldir that he was not to be feared. Haldir did not doubt her, but he would be remiss in his duties, indeed, if he did not take certain. . .precautions.  
  
In addition, Haldir noticed the way Gimli stood protectively at the man's side. At Ardeth's side. From his own past experience, Haldir knew well that the dwarf was quite suspicious of anyone whom he did not know (_which_, Haldir thought, _meant he was quite suspicious of nearly the entire world_). Ardeth had to be a fine ally, indeed, for Gimli to regard him thus. The chieftain bowed a bit stiffly, and Haldir took note of the pain in his expression.  
  
Pain, and determination. It spoke well of him. Haldir knew not what wounds he sustained while protecting the two mischievous hobbits, but it mattered little. He was in pain, and he was still here. Still looked determined. He was a good ally to have, just as Lady Galadriel said. Haldir bowed in turn, a little deeper than the other man (but unlike Ardeth, Haldir was not injured) and replied, "I am honored to meet you, Ardeth Bey."  
  
The Med-jai (and what exactly _was_ a Med-jai?) answered in heavily-accented Westron, "It is I who am honored, Lord Haldir."  
  
That was something else about which Galadriel warned him. The newcomer did not actually speak Westron. . .he knew not the common tongue, but the Valar saw fit to grant him the mercy of being heard in Westron, and hearing them in a language they understood. That left Haldir even more confused, but Lord Celeborn told him quietly that Ardeth was not from Middle Earth. At that point, Haldir decided that he needed to hear no more.  
  
"Come," Aragorn said, "I will tell you what I know." By all rights, that was the king's place to do, but Theoden King still looked stunned. That was fine. Haldir preferred speaking with Aragorn, or 'Estel,' as he was known among the elves. Besides, the March Warden noted the barest hint of 'we told you so' in Gimli's eyes when he looked at Theoden. There was a story here, and a most entertaining one. . .  
  
_Oh, by the Valar_! There was something else he had to do, before they prepared for battle. Perhaps it was not so important, but perhaps it was. Twas not for him to decide. Haldir told the Ranger, "Indeed. But first, my Lady bid me to relay a message to Ardeth Bey." The Med-jai looked at Haldir in surprise, and the elf continued, "My Lady Galadriel asks that you fear not for your lady wife. No harm will come to her, for she is now under the protection of Lady Arwen, and thus, under the protection of my Lady herself."  
  
Ardeth actually paled, whispering, "Celia." Which was, no doubt, the name of the lady in question. Gimli patted the small of his back, murmuring something that sounded vaguely like, '_easy, lad_.' After a moment, Ardeth's head lifted proudly, his shoulders straightening as if a great burden was lifted from him. His dark eyes were level with Haldir as he replied, "Please convey my thanks to Lady Galadriel, Haldir of Lorien. It has put my mind at ease."  
  
"And now, we must prepare for battle. Come. We have work to do," Aragorn invited, putting a gentle hand on Ardeth's shoulder and propelling him back up the stairs. Theoden fell in beside Haldir, looking lost. However, as they walked, his chin lifted and his eyes took a defiant light. Perhaps he would die this night. . .perhaps they all would. But Haldir swore that the Uruk-hai would not find an easy battle this night. Or any other, so long as he drew breath.  
  
. . .  
  
They took their places. He stood alongside Gimli, Legolas, and Aragorn. More to the point, he and Legolas stood on both sides of Gimli. Aragorn finished last minute preparations, whispering a quiet word of encouragement to one boy, checking the weapons of another. It almost made Ardeth smile. After all, things were not quite as dismal as they appeared earlier in the day. In this land, just like in his own world, appearances could be quite deceiving. This night was proof of that.  
  
His desire to smile vanished. All was quiet. Too quiet. But in the distance, Ardeth and the other defenders of Helm's Deep could see the approaching invaders. The night was dark, but occasional flashes of lightning lit up the sky. Rain was in the air, and Ardeth shivered a little. The air was growing cooler, and there was another flash of lightning. He saw more of the approaching enemy. They were just as ugly as he remembered. . .perhaps more so.  
  
The silence was broken by an occasional clap of thunder, as well as what sounded like a shutter in the wind. Then, a familiar voice, located somewhere around his waist, exclaimed, "You could have picked a better spot!" Gimli continued to grumble, and Ardeth smiled to himself. A quick glance over at Legolas told him that the elf prince, too, was smiling. Hardly a surprise there. Indeed, Ardeth came to expect such bantering, even in the midst of battle.  
  
Aragorn approached them, standing on the other side of Legolas. He shared a look with Ardeth, and the younger man tried to reassure his elder counterpart. He was not the only one. Gimli glanced up at Aragorn, saying, "Lad, whatever luck you live by. . .let's hope it lasts the night." It amazed Ardeth, Gimli referring to Legolas or Aragorn as 'lad.' Especially since he now knew that Aragorn understated his true age. Perhaps he did not wish to make this entire situation more surreal for Ardeth than it already was.  
  
And it really did not matter. Legolas said, his eyes never leaving the enemy, "Your friends are with you, Aragorn." Again, Ardeth looked at the Ranger, who made no outward sign of hearing. Gimli told him, on the way to the armory, that Aragorn was, in fact, eighty-seven years old. Indeed, old enough to be Ardeth's grandfather. But because of his Numenor blood, he aged at a much slower rate. Ardeth was still struggling to wrap his mind around that.  
  
Gimli muttered in response to the elf's remark, "Let's hope they last the night." Ardeth bit back a smile. . .just in time, for the rain finally began. Ardeth shivered again, remembering his last visit somewhere during a rain storm. England. . .London, when he was trying to retrieve the Bracelet of Anubis. The misadventure that started the chase to Ahm Shere. More memories best left alone, and he rubbed unconsciously at the scars he gained that night.  
  
And still the invaders came. Ardeth shook himself, grimacing a little when the movement irritated his far more recent wounds. He had to stop thinking about Ahm Shere. He thought more about that accursed site in the last five days than he did in the previous two years. The last time Ahm Shere occupied his thoughts this much were in the weeks and months immediately following that horrific battle.  
  
As another lightning strike lit up the night, Ardeth was stunned to see a rather. . .large figure. He shook his head, thinking the rain was affecting his vision. No. It was still there. Gimli whispered loudly, "That is a troll, laddie. You have none of those in your time, either?" Ardeth shook his head. La, no trolls, and a fact for which he was extremely grateful. Anubis Warriors and the undead were bad enough. Trolls, at least trolls from Middle Earth, were another story altogether. These were not the tiny creatures that lived under bridges, in the stories Celia read to their children. Gimli muttered, "No trolls, no orcs, no elves. . .perhaps I should return with you when it is time."  
  
A glance over at Legolas told Ardeth that the elf not only heard this, but he was openly grinning. Aywa. This sort of bantering was quite common between the two. In some ways, they reminded him of O'Connell, who nearly always had a witty response for a situation. And much to his surprise, Ardeth realized he missed that. He missed Rick. . .though he was quite sure Rick would have fought him, tooth and nail, about aiding Rohan. And he knew Rick would have made his usual '_we, what we'_ remark. But in the end, Rick would have done the right thing.  
  
Behind him, the chieftain could hear Aragorn addressing the elven contingent. Legolas explained that there were elves from at least two different regions among the reinforcements. There were the Lorien elves, to which Haldir belonged, and the Rivendell elves. Lord Elrond of Rivendell. Ardeth remembered hearing that name earlier. Legolas went on to explain that while Elrond ruled Rivendell, his title was 'Lord,' rather than 'King' or 'Prince.'  
  
Ardeth thought little of it. In his studies of history, he learned it was not such an uncommon thing, especially in England. Strictly speaking, Arwen, Aragorn's beloved, was not a princess, for she was not the daughter of a king. However, she was a member of the elven aristocracy. . .therefore, she was not an elven princess, but she was the daughter of the area's ruler. He was somewhat curious, though. . .did that make him the equal of Legolas' father?  
  
Legolas whispered, translating Aragorn's words to the elves, "Show them no mercy. . .for you shall receive none!" Aragorn stopped speaking, then stepped forward, facing the invaders. Closer still they came. Not quite close enough for Ardeth to see their individual features, but close enough to make his blood turn to ice. He ordered himself to remain calm. He was a seasoned warrior, not a boy in his first battle!  
  
Forcing himself to focus on what his friend just said, rather than the horrifying monsters they would soon face, Ardeth asked in an equally low voice, "Your people already know that, do they not? That these. . .creatures are far from merciful?" He never faced a battle with these creatures before. . .not a true battle. But his instincts, honed over the course of fifteen years, screamed at him that these beings knew not the meaning of the word 'mercy.'  
  
"Of course," came the amused reply, "Estel is merely. . . reminding them." Ah. Ardeth nodded, falling silent. The distraction proved to be useful. His nerves were quieter, and he took a deep breath. Ardeth banished all thoughts of home to the back of his mind. All thoughts of his friends and family in Egypt. He even banished thoughts of what the defenders might be doing wrong. Here, he was not chieftain. Here, he was just another warrior.  
  
He was distracted from clearing his mind by the sounds of impatient jumping. Startled, he looked to his left, where Gimli was jumping up and down impatiently. The dwarf kept trying to see over the edge of the fortress (Ardeth was sure there was a name for it, but he wasn't well enough versed in castles or keeps to know for certain), and growled, "What's happening out there?" Ardeth started to answer, but Legolas already had a reply in mind.  
  
"Shall I describe it to you. . .or would you like me to find a box?" the elf asked, glancing down at Gimli with a mischievous smile. Gimli stared up at him, then began guffawing.  
  
Ardeth returned his attention on Aragorn, who looked totally focused. The elder drew his sword, even as a relentless pounding began. It took Ardeth a moment to realize the source of the pounding. The Uruk-hai were pounding their spikes into the ground. It reminded Ardeth of watching a soccer match with Evy and Jonathan on television in the Cairo manor, a rare occasion when he did not fall asleep in front of the television.  
  
It was, he realized, a method of intimidation. Every fighting force had a different method. The Med-jai had their own. And Ardeth could feel the tension rising, particularly when he looked at the old men and the young boys, they who never saw battle before. The American term for what the Uruk-hai were now doing was 'psych out,' as he learned from his wife and O'Connell. And judging from those unseasoned old men and young boys, it was working well.  
  
Too well. . .Ardeth heard an arrow released from a bow, and looked back in that direction. It was an old man, staring first at his hands, then at the arrow as if he wished to call it back. Aragorn called something out in Elvish, and Legolas whispered, considerately translating once more, "Hold!" Ardeth wondered a bit ruefully if it was meant for the more seasoned Elven warriors. . .because he was certain the defenders from Rohan didn't speak Elvish.  
  
The arrow, surprisingly, found a victim. Even from this distance, Ardeth heard a plaintive moan as an Uruk-hai fell face forward into the mud. The pounding stopped, and for a moment, silence reigned. It was the silence heard when the world held its breath. Almost as if the Uruk-hai couldn't believe 'man-flesh' was capable of killing them. The universe released its breath, and all hell broke loose with roars of fury from the Uruk-hai. Ardeth murmured, "So it begins."  
  
. . .  
  
The boy, no doubt, thought he was murmuring in his native language. That, Gandalf explained to them while Ardeth was unconscious, was not part of the language truce, declared by the gods of the future and the Valar. Only English, which was an eventual descendent of Westron. Thus, the boy had to be speaking in English/Westron when he murmured, "So it begins." Gimli wasn't certain, of course. . .but up until now, he and the others never understood when Ardeth spoke in his native Arabic.  
  
Legolas answered in Westron, "Indeed it does." Startled, Ardeth looked at him, and the young elf continued with a faint smile, "You may have been thinking in your native tongue, Ardeth, but the words came out in your modern derivative of Westron." The Med-jai looked a bit embarrassed, though not particularly surprised. The boy knew by now that elves had uncanny hearing. Legolas asked next, "Can you use a bow and arrow, Ardeth, at all? Or perhaps a crossbow? The swords will not be used immediately."  
  
"Of course not! And I'll wager my portion of the lembas bread that I can kill more Uruk-hai by the end of the night than you," Gimli broke in. During their journey down to the armory, Ardeth told him stories of weaponry in his own time. Amazing inventions, similar to the arrow, that could travel great distances in a heartbeat. . .inventions called 'guns' and 'rifles.' Gimli wasn't entirely certain he wished to use such devices. They could never take the place of his axe, after all. Still, he was fascinated by Ardeth's stories, as were they all.  
  
Including Legolas, but right now, his eyes were gleaming with mischief as he said, "Your portion of the lembas bread. . .for the winner of such a contest? You with your axe, against my bows and arrows? Ardeth, tell this dwarf that he is being foolish!" Gimli was certain that Ardeth would have done just that, though not for the reasons Legolas suggested. The boy certainly looked exasperated with them both at that moment. However, it was then that the Uruk-hai rushed the keep. Legolas added, steadying his bow, "I accept!"  
  
Ha! He was a foolish dwarf, was he? They would see who was so foolish in just a moment! Aragorn called in Elvish, "Prepare to fire!" Gimli glanced over his shoulder, to see the Elves fitting their arrows. Ardeth shifted a bit uneasily at his side, and Gimli remembered a bit belatedly that the young man didn't speak Elvish. Gimli's own Elvish was rusty, though he remembered some of what he learned during the last few weeks, while traveling with Legolas.  
  
He whispered a translation to Ardeth, and the dark head bobbed once. Moments later, his skills as a translator were needed once again, as Legolas told the other archers, "Their armor is weak at the neck. . . and beneath the arm." Ardeth blinked, and Gimli wondered a bit warily if he used the wrong word for 'neck' or 'arm.' After a moment, however, Ardeth nodded his thanks. The dwarf decided even if he used the wrong word, Ardeth wouldn't tell.  
  
Just as Legolas finished giving his fellow Elves that bit of advice, Aragorn called in Elvish, "Release arrows!" He gestured with his sword, in a 'forward' motion. A hail of arrows arched overhead, and the dwarf wondered how exactly the elven archers managed to arch their aim such that no one in front of them was hit. He would have to ask Legolas about that. . .if they lived through the night. Come to think of it, he would get Ardeth to ask Legolas. The pointy-ear didn't tease Ardeth the way he did Gimli.  
  
And fortunately, Ardeth needed no translation, not after the arrows were released. Gimli asked the young man, relying on his greater height, "Did they hit anything?" Ardeth was silent for a moment, looking into the night. Gimli was on the point of asking once more, when his new friend turned to him with a grim, utterly nasty smile and nodded. That smile made Gimli very, very pleased that he and Ardeth were on the same side. He never saw Ardeth truly angry or truly dangerous, and it was an eye-opener.  
  
Still, the dwarf couldn't help himself. When Ardeth muttered under his breath, "How I wish I had a rifle with me, or even a pistol," it was all Gimli could do to keep from laughing aloud. He had himself a few good snickers, however. Not aloud, of course. The lad was feeling a mite left out right now, as the arrows continued to whiz down, burying themselves in the bodies of countless Uruk-hai. But not enough. Not enough, and not yet.  
  
Gimli, honestly, was feeling left out as well, and he growled, "Send them to me, come on!" He was aching to bury his axe in the chest or neck or belly of an Uruk-hai! So many crimes for which they had to pay. Boromir. Merry. Pippin. Ardeth. So many people whom they hurt. . .or killed. So many lives destroyed by these animals and their puppet-master Saruman. He would pay dearly as well. Oh, yes. He would.  
  
And the Uruk-hai were responding to his taunts. Arrows from crossbows were being launched into the keep, and defenders were struck by said arrows. Even when the initial injury was not fatal, the resulting fall invariably was, and Gimli winced at the screams of Elves and Men as they fell to the ground below. There was a 'thump,' and Aragorn shouted in Elvish (again), "Ladders!"  
  
Gimli grinned viciously and said, "GOOD!" At his side, Ardeth stiffened, then his body relaxed, going into a defensive crouch. Gimli was actually looking forward to seeing Ardeth fight, if he had a second or two once the fighting started. He never really saw his ally in action. Maybe he could learn a few new tricks from their ally. Stranger things happened, after all.  
  
The first Uruk-hai made it over the wall, and Gimli claimed him as his first victim, growling, "This is for Boromir!" The dwarf buried the blade of his axe in the monster's chest, ignoring the blood as it spattered on his face. He would wash it off later. . .he wanted no orc blood, of any kind, soiling him once the fight was done! He glanced over his shoulder just once, long enough to see Ardeth shift into position behind Aragorn, watching the Ranger's back.  
  
Gimli grunted in satisfaction. By all rights, the lad shouldn't even be here. . .not in this battle, thanks to his injuries, and not in Middle Earth. This wasn't his place, wasn't his time. But damn if the boy wasn't making the best of a bad situation! He noticed one of the Uruk-hai lumbering toward one of the younger defenders. _Oh no, ye don't_, he thought grimly, and took a running dive. Gimli slid on his back under Men and Elves, until he came up under the Uruk-hai.  
  
The dwarf smiled malevolently and swung his axe into the groin of the Uruk-hai, adding, "And that was for Ardeth!" The Uruk-hai made a sound in its throat, collapsing backward, and Gimli bounded to his feet once more to finish it off. He turned to call to his elven friend, "Legolas! Two already!" And he held up two fingers triumphantly. Legolas looked at him with a grin of his own, retorting that he was on seventeen.  
  
"Agh! I'll have no pointy-ear outscoring me!" Gimli shouted, losing his smile with that bit of information. Thoroughly annoyed by now, he took out his frustration on the next several Uruk-hai who were unfortunate enough to cross his path. Legolas told Ardeth that Aragorn was warning their reinforcements to show no mercy, for they would receive none. Gimli had no intention whatsoever of showing mercy to this misbegotten creatures!  
  
Or that confounded elf, who called over his shoulder with a smirk, "Nineteen!" Of course. That damnable bow and arrow! Legolas was one of the finest archers, even among the elves. Then Gimli would work that much harder to catch up! He cared naught for the lembas bread. . .he wanted to outdo Legolas!  
  
Gimli checked on Ardeth a few more times, just to make sure the boy was all right. With an approving nod, he noted the easy, graceful motions as Ardeth fought behind Aragorn, clearing a way for him when Aragorn pushed over a ladder. He also noted that the young man from the future fought in a manner very similar to Aragorn. With a grunt of approval, Gimli muttered, "The lad is doing well for his first real battle with the Uruk- hai." Reassured, he turned his attention back to his own battles. There was work to be done, and a contest to be won.  
  
. . .  
  
Arwen Undomiel had no idea how much time she spent with Celia of the Med-jai. Time had no real meaning here. It could have been a matter of moments. . .it could have been hours. Indeed, it could have even been years, and Arwen would have never known the difference. Celia, as she promised, showed Arwen about having children. Forever winning Arwen's friendship, Celia showed her all sides of having children. Not just the joy, but the pain, the sorrow, and the fear.  
  
Arwen told Celia about her continuing struggle with her father, explaining that Aragorn was her foster brother, in a manner of speaking. And though he was of the Numenor, the long-lived Men, he was still mortal. Elves lived for thousands of years. . .even Numenor lived for a fraction of that time. Celia, to her credit, did not speak. Only listened. And because of that, Arwen opened up even more.  
  
She told how torn she felt. . .her father was trying to convince her to sail to the Undying Lands, and be reunited with her mother, after so many years of separation. He was trying to protect her. Arwen knew that. Just as Aragorn was. But even as Aragorn and Elrond were trying to protect her from mortality, they were tearing her apart. Aragorn only urged her to go to Valinor at her father's insistence. . .Lord Elrond was the only father he ever really knew.  
  
Celia was silent for a long time, then said softly, "My father. . .I hope and pray you will not be angry with me when I say this. But in a way, I envy you, Arwen. Your father loves you so much. For most of my life, my father had one of two moods where I was concerned: indifferent or furious that I was a daughter, instead of a son. It wasn't until after he died, and I married Ardeth, that I learned the truth. My father loved me. . .but because my brother was kidnapped when I was just a baby, he could never bring himself to acknowledge that."  
  
Arwen inhaled sharply, and Celia continued, "It was. . .he was afraid that if he let himself love me the way he did before Galen was taken, I would be taken from him as well. So, he chose to drive me away instead. I think that's part of the reason I joined the Legacy. Up until the time I was about nineteen or twenty, I was still trying to prove that I was good enough."  
  
"But Celia," Arwen answered, her heart weeping, "the fault never lay in you. It was in your father. You were just a child! Did your mother never. . ." She stopped, seeing the expression in her new friend's eyes. Arwen couldn't imagine such a thing. She remembered what Celia said before, about parents in that organization to which she belonged before marrying Ardeth.   
  
"My mother was lost in her own grief, as well," Celia answered slowly. She stared down at the long-dead mortals below them. They were no longer watching Niccolo and Carlotta. Celia never mentioned the names of these incarnations. The human said after a moment, "My younger brother Jason was conceived during that time. My mother and father clung to each other after Galen was taken from us. I've long suspected that I probably would have died of neglect if my grandparents were not there with me."  
  
Arwen had no idea what to say. To say, 'I am sorry,' seemed so terribly. . .it seemed not even close to being enough. It was not necessary for her to say anything, for Celia continued, "We found him. . .or rather, Galen found us, years later. Under very strange circumstances, which are too difficult to explain. It seems that my brother was kidnapped by a member of the Legacy who turned rogue. Galen was only about. . .oh, eleven or twelve years old at the time. A mysterious man rescued him in Egypt, and gave him to one of the desert tribes."  
  
Arwen frowned and Celia said softly, "Thing is, the mysterious man who rescued him? Also went rogue. . .and he went rogue before Galen's abductor did. Or at least, his treason was discovered first. I have no idea when he actually went rogue. My brother's rescuer, Reed Horton, was killed about twenty-five years ago. . .but in 1998, he was brought back to life." Arwen had a sudden chilling sense that Celia was telling her this for a specific reason.  
  
She was. Celia turned to face her, her hazel eyes haunted as she explained, "Reed Horton spent most of his unlife, afterlife, whatever you want to call it, attacking San Francisco House, the House to which he belonged before his own death. But occasionally, he would go after one of the other Houses. Chicago House. . .the House to which I belonged before my transfer to Cairo, before I met Ardeth. . . was among them."  
  
"What happened?" Arwen asked numbly in a voice she barely recognized as her own. Something happened during that confrontation. Arwen needed no special gift or foresight to know that. She could hear it in Celia's voice, could see it in her eyes, could feel it in the minute tremors that wracked Celia's body. Something happened. Something important. Something that turned the world of her new friend upside down.  
  
"My daughter Miranda was not quite four years old, and she could be quite slippery when she chose. If you didn't watch her very carefully, she could slip out without being seen. In the Legacy House, rest was taken where we could find it. You know, from your experience, that people and things that seek to do evil do not respect the hours of the day," Celia observed. Arwen nodded. She knew that, indeed, and Celia went on, "'Randa learned how to walk softly, so softly that no one could hear her. She snuck out of the room where Jason was studying and she was coloring in her coloring books, and went downstairs."  
  
She paused, took a deep breath, then released it and said, "I was just waking up. Had an all-nighter, between researching a new case and Miranda being sick. I didn't get to sleep until after the sun came up. That was why Jason was watching her. So I could get some sleep. Jason was finishing his last year of college, and was studying for his exams." Arwen had no idea what this 'college' was, or anything of that sort, but all she needed to know was that Jason's attention was not on his small niece.  
  
Celia went on, her voice cracking, "Miranda made her way downstairs. The same sound that attracted her attention woke me up. Horton, making his big entrance. Growing up in a Legacy House, and being around ghosts, I learned very quickly that when loud noises wake me up, investigating is a very GOOD idea. Sometimes, just having an extra person in the fight makes all the difference in the world. And sometimes, only a distraction makes a difference."  
  
Arwen had only to think of Celia's husband, and the difference he made to Aragorn already, to know that was true. Her companion continued, "As I walked downstairs, I saw Horton, frozen. He was on the point of killing one of my teammates. . .and he just froze. My little girl, my baby, was standing between him and my friend. She had her hands on her hips, like she saw me do when I was angry, and told this big bad traitor to the Legacy that he shouldn't be so mean. She was yelling at him, Arwen, and all he could do was. . .stand there."  
  
Why? That was the ultimate question, was it not? Arwen would have asked the question, but she sensed that Celia would answer it in her own way, on her own time. She was right. Her human friend said softly, "I later learned. . .his daughter was hardly more than a baby when he turned to the dark, and paid the price. He couldn't strike at my little girl, because she reminded him too much of his own."  
  
Arwen could see the picture easily in her head. The frantic young mother, still exhausted after a night of doing her job and taking care of her sick daughter, flying downstairs to see the recovering child confronting an evil that could have easily destroyed her. But. . .did. . . not. Arwen asked, "Why? I know that she reminded him of his daughter, but he could have taken advantage of the situation. Why did he not?"  
  
Celia gave a hopeless little laugh, replying, "I don't know, Arwen. I just don't know. One moment, he was staring at Miranda with this expression that was half-shocked, and half. . .it will sound strange. But half-despair. As if he looked at my daughter, and for the first time, saw his true reflection. . .and didn't like what he saw. I remember, this was just after he killed the girlfriend of the San Francisco precept in a car bomb. After he failed to turn Derek Rayne against a member of his own House, he came to Chicago. . .and then he vanished."  
  
She was quiet a moment, then said, "And what I keep asking myself. . .especially in light of my confrontation with Saruman. . .is Reed Horton capable of being redeemed? I wasn't sure two years ago, when I skidded down the stairs and saw my baby standing between my friend and Reed Horton in her pajamas and her hands on her hips. I don't know now, either." _And that_, Arwen thought, _is what haunts her. Saruman would have had no difficulty at all in destroying little Miranda, though she posed no threat to him.  
_  
At last, she replied, "I know not the answers to your questions, Celia. But this I do know. Saruman. . .and this Reed Horton. . .made their own choices. Perhaps Reed Horton took a step back toward what is good and right, and worth the fight when he did not attack your daughter. Perhaps not. But Celia. . .there is no hope for Saruman. Are you afraid that your memory of Reed Horton will cause you to pity Saruman?"  
  
To her surprise, Celia shook her head and replied, "No. I have no pity, no compassion for Saruman. I'm not even sure that I feel pity for Reed Horton. Just. . .confusion. There is no confusion where Saruman is concerned." Good. That was very good. Celia took a deep breath, sighing, "And I know you're right. . .about choices. Reed Horton made his choice, to turn toward evil, when I was still a child. But it isn't always easy to remember that. Especially when you encounter something like Saruman and realize just how weak you really are."  
  
"You proved no such thing," Arwen countered immediately, "you proved your strength, Celia. You must never forget that. Why do humans become so caught up in guilt? Particularly when it is not their doing? This is something I see in my Aragorn. He fears his blood. . .he fears the blood of Isildur, his ancestor, who was lost to the Ring's seduction after the fall of Sauron. He fears that he will make the same choice."  
  
"I know," Celia said softly, "My parents couldn't forgive themselves for not protecting Galen, and it ended up destroying them. Rameses could not forgive himself for failing to see just how willing Khaldun was to destroy anyone or anything that brought Rameses joy. Anck-su-namun could not forgive herself for serving the poisoned wine to her best friend. It was the fault of neither. Khaldun made the choice to poison the wine. Can you imagine, Arwen, how the death of a simple young concubine could be the linchpin for so much pain and destruction?"  
  
Arwen smiled sadly, replying, "Can you imagine, Celia, a simple Ring causing the destruction it has? But of course, that Ring is not simple at all. Not the Ring of Power. . .one Ring to rule them all. And nor was Lady Ardath just a simple concubine. She was not ordinary or forgettable. . .nor was she responsible for the destruction wrought by her death." Celia looked at her quickly, and Arwen added, "I thought as much. She felt guilty for what became of those whom she loved after her death. Just as you feel guilty for being tempted by Saruman's lies. You did nothing shameful, Celia. You were strong. And you made the right choice."  
  
. . .  
  
Once he linked Celia and Arwen, Seti released Arwen's hand and stepped back. He still wasn't certain how that worked. . .he was only grateful that it did. Anck-su-namun, his daughter reborn and Terumun's reincarnation would see to Celia's safety in the physical world.  
  
Arwen could relieve her mind in the dream-plane. There was nothing more for Seti to do for now. On the other hand, it left him with a very annoyed elf lord. Not that Seti was really concerned. He was Pharaoh of Egypt, a living god, in his life. . .he was the father of Nefertiri and Rameses, among others. He lost count of how many grandchildren he had, thanks to Rameses' desperate attempt to fill the void left by Ardath's murder.  
  
And this man was also a father. A man who was trying to save the life of his daughter, even at the cost of her very spirit. Seti made so many mistakes during his lifetime. . .chief among them was the entire debacle with Anck-su-namun. But he learned from his mistakes. And whatever else he was, Seti was not a man who enjoyed seeing other parents suffer. Suffer, as this Elf-Lord now suffered.  
  
It was that suffering, he knew, which led said Elf-Lord to hiss, "Do you have any idea what you have done? You may have destroyed my last chance to save my daughter!" Seti said nothing, just stared at the elf steadily. He didn't waste much time wondering how he understood Arwen, or her father, for that matter. He understood them, they understood him, end of story. No point in wondering about his divine parents, whatever they were up to.  
  
"My son was brought to this time against his will, Lord Elrond of Imladris. He was literally torn from the arms of his sister and her husband by your Saruman. And as if that was not bad enough, Saruman then tried to attack my daughter-in-law, once he realized that she was my son's greatest weakness. I am trying to save my children as well. . .do you think that your daughter is more important than my son?" Seti asked.  
  
To Lord Elrond, she _was_ more important. Seti knew that. But that didn't prevent him from continuing, "Much is made of the arrogance of men. . .but I hear little said of the arrogance of elves. Elves are longer-lived, and their arrogance goes far deeper. How dare you, sir, imply that my son and daughter-in-law are less worthy of salvation than your daughter? My son, who risked his life to save yours, I might add."  
  
Elrond's eyes flashed, and Seti added, "And you have no right to judge Isildur for his time of weakness. You sail off to the Undying Lands, you may escape from Middle Earth and from Saruman and Sauron. Something that your son Estel can only do by death. You disgust me, sir. . .for all your words, you truly are no better than anyone else!" He wasn't being fair, he knew there was more to it than that, but he was feeling the strain of watching his son struggle in this strange place and even stranger time.  
  
"What would you have me do?" Elrond demanded in a low voice. Seti just stared at him coolly, not backing down. He would not let the Elf-Lord make the same mistakes he did. Nor would he betray Arwen, after everything she did for him and for his children. He would see this through. Elrond's voice cracked as he continued, "She is my daughter, and last-born child. I will not leave her here to die! Do you not understand? Even as a mortal, Arwen will out-live Aragorn. It is bad enough that I must lose my son. . .and make no mistake, Estel _is_ my son, just as Elrohir and Elladan are. But I will not lose Arwen. There will be no comfort for her, if she remains here. Once Aragorn dies, she will live out the rest of her days in darkness and doubt! My daughter deserves better than that!"  
  
"I understand far better than you think, Master Elf. Far better. I was Pharaoh of all Egypt, the greatest land in the world of my time. I had many children, but my two favorites were my son Rameses and my daughter Nefertiri, born of my favorite wife. Rameses, like myself, had many concubines. The one to whom his heart belonged was a young girl of the Hebrews, a child they found on the shores, the only survivor of a shipwreck. But because she was not of royal blood, I would not allow them to marry," Seti replied quietly.  
  
Despite his conversation with Arwen on this subject, Seti was not inclined to forgive himself as yet. He continued, "Ardath was her name, and it meant a field of flowers. Tis where the Israelites found her. In a field of flowers. Yet she was not born of the Israelites, as my nephew Moses was. Niy, she was born of a far distant place. She was born in a land now called 'Scotland,' and she was considered exotic in my court, because of her fair skin and hazel eyes."  
  
Elrond looked away from him, looked at his daughter, who wore a faint smile. Seti was pleased with himself for introducing Arwen and Celia. He never really thought about anything other than protecting his daughter-in-law from further violations. . .but he was glad Arwen found a kindred spirit in Celia. Elrond gently moved Arwen until she was sitting on her bed, where she sat with her father when Seti first arrived, then eased her so that she reclined there.  
  
Once he was facing Seti, the pharaoh went on, "She suffered much, that innocent girl, because of me. My nephew, Khaldun, attempted to assassinate me. When Ardath screamed a warning to me, Khaldun's man pushed her over the balcony. She was five months pregnant, and she lost her baby as a result. Her baby. . .her daughter, my granddaughter. If given a choice between my life and the life of my granddaughter, I would have chosen for my granddaughter to live. I was not given that choice. Nor was Ardath. It was taken from her."  
  
Just as Elrond was trying to take the choice of whether to go or stay from his daughter. Was it a different situation? Of course. Khaldun and his man took the choice from Ardath and Seti by force. Elrond was taking it by using love, and in some ways, that was even crueler than what Khaldun did. Again, Elrond asked, in a softer voice this time, "What would you have me do? Go to Valinor, knowing that I will lose both my daughter and my son?"  
  
"Go to Valinor, trusting in your daughter. Go to Valinor, trusting in your son. Your daughter is nearly three thousand years old. She's no longer a child, Elrond. You must let go. No matter what you do, Arwen will die. She will die as a mortal. . .or she will die as an immortal, her heart slowly dying with grief and resentment, that you used her love for you in such a cruel way. There is death in her future, yes. . .but there is life, as well," Seti replied.  
  
During his time in Middle Earth, watching over the reincarnation of his son, Seti learned a great deal about the Elves. He learned that they loved but once. . .and that it was quite possible for an Elf to die of a broken heart. He asked softly, "And how can you be so sure that the Elves will be safe in the Undying Lands, if Sauron rises?" Elrond looked around at that, and Seti continued, "I am familiar with the minds of such madmen. Do you truly think Sauron will allow his greatest enemies to simply. . .sail away? Do you truly think that your daughter, your Evenstar, will be safe in Valinor?"  
  
"Sauron can never find Valinor! What you speak of is impossible!" Elrond retorted. Seti merely raised his eyebrows. He honestly didn't know if it was possible for Sauron and his minions to find Valinor. Possibly not. But that wasn't his problem. In truth, the entire Arwen/Aragorn situation wasn't his problem. But. . .he owed Arwen. And Seti, Pharaoh of all Egypt, father of Rameses and Nefertiri, paid his debts.  
  
. . .  
  
"She's sleeping peacefully. . .why don't you get some rest?" Rick O'Connell suggested. Evy looked at her friend. Her husband was right. . .for the first time since Saruman's initial attack, Celia was actually relaxed. There was even a faint smile on her face. And Anck was with her. It was just that. . .Rick put his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him, and said, "This isn't your fault, sweetheart. None of it."  
  
Evy opened her mouth to protest. . .whether it was to protest leaving Celia's side or that this was her fault, she wasn't even sure. Rick never gave her a chance to answer, repeating, "This isn't your fault. You didn't open a chest, you didn't read from a book, you didn't put those damn towers there. . .and you didn't allow Ardeth to be taken. None of this was your fault, Evy! Not a damn thing!"  
  
Evy again started to say something, but. . .nothing came out. Rick caressed her cheekbones with the pads of his thumbs, and she murmured, finally forcing her vocal cords to work, "I just. . .how many times do we have to go through this, Rick? How many times do we have to face losing him? God! I haven't opened any tombs I shouldn't! Isis, Horus, are you listening? I kept my promise!"  
  
She choked back her sobs, whispering, "I kept my promise. . .and now, it's happening all over again! Why did I make that promise, and keep it, only to have this happen again? What did we do this time that they would allow this to happen? To him, to all of us?" Rick's eyes filled with grief and he drew her into his arms. She buried her face in his shoulder, her sobs muffled by his shirt. For days, she kept that stiff upper lip and focused on taking care of the people around her. But Evy's strength was not limitless, and it just ran out.  
  
"We're gonna get him back. . .okay? We're gonna get him back, and this time, we won't let go. Way I hear it, Anck has found a way to cross over into this place where Ardeth is. And she's swearing to avenge both Ardeth and Celia," Rick answered, kissing the top of Evy's head. Evy gave a muffled little laugh, in spite of herself. Her husband continued, almost sounding surprised, "You know something, I actually believe her. And if it weren't for what he did to us, and to Ardeth, I think I'd actually feel sorry for that creep."  
  
Evy giggled, and Rick said, "Better. This isn't your fault, honey. Celia will tell you that when she wakes up, Ardeth will tell you when he gets back, and I'm telling you now. None of this was your fault. You did nothing to cause this, in any way. Hey, you didn't even say _what harm ever came from _this time!" Evy laughed a little more, pulling back to look at her husband. He smiled down at her, his blue eyes twinkling.  
  
"And I will tell you, Evelyn. You are not at fault. There is only one person who is at fault, and that is Saruman. Something which your brother needs to hear as well," Anck-su-namun said, appearing beside Celia. She continued, "Too many people blame themselves, and they are not at fault. You and Jonathan blame yourselves for telling Ardeth about the ruins. Your husband blames himself for 'allowing' Saruman to invade his mind. Celia blames herself for almost being tempted into becoming a tool for Saruman to use against Ardeth."  
  
She shook her head, saying, "I admit, I have little room to judge any of you. For so long, I blamed myself for my best friend's death, because I gave her the goblet with the poisoned wine. I blamed myself, I blamed the Med-jai for failing to protect her. And all the while, I was. . .absolving he who was truly to blame. Khaldun." She spat out the name as if it was truly poisonous. And. . .wasn't it?  
  
Anck looked at Evy and Rick, saying in a hoarse voice, "He is the one to blame for Ardath's murder. Not I. Not Rameses. Not the Med-jai. Khaldun is the only one responsible. Just as Sanure is the only one responsible for Celia and Andreas almost dying. Just as Saruman is the only one responsible for Ardeth being taken from us. But he shall pay for that. Oh, he will pay for it in spades."  
  
Her eyes burned with rage, and that part of Evy that was Nefertiri reborn recognized Anck-su-namun's expression. Nefertiri whispered in the back of the Englishwoman's mind to be wary, that terrible things happened when Anck-su-namun wore that expression. But Evy wasn't afraid of the ghost. No, there was only one person who should fear Anck-su-namun, and that was Saruman.  
  
Rick said in a teasing voice, "You know, Anck, you keep that up, and I might actually start liking you!" The ghost looked at Rick briefly, then started laughing. Her expression was rueful now, instead of enraged. Evy felt a moment of sorrow. Perhaps things could have been different, three thousand years ago. But Evy could only do something about what she did. . .she was Nefertiri's reincarnation, not Nefertiri herself.  
  
"He made me angry, Rick O'Connell. . .the dead man who took Ardeth referred to me as '_just a concubine, just a woman_.' I was tempted. . .to explode his brains on the spot," Anck replied ruefully. Evy laughed, her sense of humor returning with her strength. Not just at Anck's general attitude, but the way she referred to Saruman. Yes, she was honest, and she was speaking the truth. . .Saruman was long-dead. But it had another meaning, and Evy knew that well. She just wished she could help her former enemy in some way. Anck said softly, "I am not certain if I ever told you, Evelyn. But there was more to Meela stabbing you than you know."  
  
What? Rick's face froze over at this reminder of Ahm Shere, but Evy squeezed his hand. She wanted to hear this. Anck-su-namun continued, "I awakened in Meela at Karnak, and learned from her memories that she had my memories. She remembered Nefertiri, Imhotep, and Ardath. She also remembered Rameses, Nassor, and Terumun. Why she did not recognize any of them, save Ardath, I have never known. But Ardath. . . that is why Meela killed you. Far beyond than any other reason."  
  
Evy couldn't remember ever hearing this, and Anck continued softly, "I learned of it from Mathayus, when I awakened in the Place In-Between. Baltus Hafez and Lock-nah. . .they told Meela that Ardath's reincarnation was dead. That you and your husband and your brother left her to die in Hamunaptra, after you vanquished Imhotep the first time. I could sense her hatred of you, and it combined with my resentment of Nefertiri. But I never hated you. Never."  
  
Rick started to speak, but Anck-su-namun wasn't finished. She went on, "The truth was, Hafez and Lock-nah had no idea where Celia was. They only knew that Ardath was my best friend, she was my forever friend, and my sister. The person I loved most in the world, aside from Imhotep, and they used that love to further twist Meela. She was already twisted. She. . .enjoyed inflicting pain, as you already know."  
  
"Those sons of bitches. Those pathetic sons of bitches. If Ardeth hadn't already killed Lock-nah, and Imhotep hadn't finished the job, I'd kill him myself. And Mathayus killed Hafez, so I don't have that pleasure, either. . .don't imagine it's easy to come back from the dead after being ripped apart," Rick observed. Evy's eyebrows climbed into her hairline. It seemed there was a great deal about Ahm Shere she still didn't know.  
  
"It was not until she reached the Underworld that Meela learned the truth. That Hafez and Lock-nah lied to her. That was why she agreed to help Mathayus, by blocking Ardeth's entrance to the Afterlife. She was in love with Lock-nah, and he lied to her. That. . . that is the other thing you should know," Anck replied. Evy frowned. What did she mean by that? Anck took a deep breath, then said, "It was Meela who warned me that Lock-nah was back from the dead. His betrayal turned her love to hatred."  
  
Evy heard the air leave her husband's lungs in a rush, and he muttered, "Meela? That bitch who murdered my wife, and would have killed my best friend was there. . .she was the one who warned you that Lock-nah was back from the dead? That's how you knew that Ardeth and Celia were in trouble? Not just because of Imhotep being Keeper of the Dead, and you were, are, dead yourself?"  
  
"I am In-Between, O'Connell, in neither the Afterlife nor the Underworld. In some ways, it can even be argued that I am undead, though it is difficult not to be dead when one's bodily shell is barely more than dust. I was with Ma'at, when Meela warned us both. I knew that my abilities were limited, and that Ma'at could do nothing. It was up to you and Imhotep," Anck replied. Evy wished at that moment she could reach out to her former rival and nemesis, but that wasn't possible. Instead, she stared at the other woman compassionately, hoping Anck understood anyhow.  
  
Perhaps she did. Anck closed her eyes, whispering, "It was Meela who stabbed you, Evelyn, and waved mockingly to your son. I took control only seconds later. It was I who comforted Imhotep after Anpu took his powers, as he crossed the shield. It was I who begged him not to go. I did not want to lose him again. And I knew, even if Meela did not, even if Imhotep did not, that O'Connell would come for us. He watched his wife die. He would be angry. He would come for us. He did."  
  
She shook her head a little, whispering, "I think. . .I think in the moment that you fell, Evelyn, and O'Connell ran out screaming. . .I began to recognize him. And Nassor. I recognized him when he told me, '_this is for my sister_.' I could not believe that this was Nassor, as it was not the Nassor I remembered. And yet, it was him. . .Nassor was struggling to make himself known, to guide Jonathan."  
  
"That was during the fight," Evelyn said, and Anck nodded. Without thinking, Evy reached out and touched Anck. She should have never been able to succeed. Anck had not a corporeal body. Evy shouldn't have been able to touch her. And yet. . .she did. Images whizzed past her, of Anck's final confrontation with Seti, and hearing his daughter scream for the Med-jai. Returning from the Underworld the first time.  
  
Awakening at Hamunaptra the second time, and feeling the heat radiating from Evy. The Englishwoman gasped at the pain. . .pain Anck felt from the brightness of Evy's life. She also felt the pain when Jonathan directed the army of the dead to kill her, but pain was mixed with relief. Her soul returned once more to the Underworld, where it remained for the next five years. Evy saw Anck awakening in Karnak, in Meela's body.  
  
Meela's soul 'lost consciousness,' so to speak, when Anck's soul entered the shared body. It remained unconscious for a time. And in the jungle of Ahm Shere, Meela took back control of the shared body, just long enough to stab Nefertiri reborn. Rage gave Anck the strength to take control back. Then came Anubis stripping Imhotep of his powers, Anck begging Imhotep not to go, and waiting. Jonathan approaching her, telling her, "It's time someone taught you some manners, wench!"  
  
Evy smiled at her brother as he distracted Meela/Anck from Alex, if only long enough to steal back the Book and revive Evy. Control switched many times during that fight. Anck had no desire to fight Nassor, and yet. . .why did she fight him? Because Meela kept taking control back? Because she felt hopelessly in over her head, and saw no way out? Because she hoped to prod Nassor into breaking free? Evy heard Anck laugh to herself humorlessly, heard her think, _if that was my plan, I failed miserably!  
_  
What other reason was there? It was then that Evy learned something very interesting indeed about Anck-su-namun. Before she fell in love with Imhotep, she was somewhat infatuated with Nassor. If she recognized Nassor within Jonathan Carnahan, why did she fight him? When she was in control of her body, why would she fight Nassor? Anck shook her head desperately, trying to understand. She never thought about it, these last few years. She had Ardath back, and Ardath forgave her. . .Ardath still loved her.  
  
After she humbled herself before Seti, so he would heal Ardeth, Imhotep told her he did not forgive her, because there was nothing to forgive. It was Meela who abandoned him at Ahm Shere, not Anck-su-namun. Meela would have never sacrificed her pride in such away. She never knew the meaning of sacrifice, as Anck-su-namun did. So, Imhotep no longer hated her. Their love story was over. But he no longer hated her.  
  
Why did she still fight Jonathan, while she was in control of her body? The answer presented itself in a most unexpected way. At some point, she realized that she was being distracted while Alex O'Connell stole the Book. She _knew_ that he spoke and understood ancient Egyptian. She _knew_ he would find the spell that would return his wrongly-killed mother to life. Meela fought Jonathan because she could. _Anck fought Jonathan, to buy Alex time_.  
  
The answer was there, all along. Celia said from the start, and Evy slowly began to agree, that it was Meela who stabbed Evy. Now, however, not only did the Englishwoman know that her friend was right. . .she also knew that Anck distracted Meela during the fight, aiding Jonathan, and allowing Alex to take the book. Anck knew exactly what Evy's little boy was doing, and she helped in whatever way she could.  
  
Evy's hand dropped, breaking the memory flow. She and Anck stared at each other. Then Evy smiled and said softly, in ancient Egyptian, "You have finally let go, my sister. If you can forgive yourself, I can forgive myself." Anck bowed her head, and Evy had her answer. Yes, Anck killed Nefertiri's father. . .but she also helped Alex and Jonathan to return Evy to life. Not just because she wished to face Nefertiri one last time. . .but because Anck had no reason to hate Evy. No reason to kill her. On that day, two years earlier, Anck-su-namun took her first steps toward redemption.  
  
And perhaps, with the soul-destroying guilt finally faced and put aside, they could find a way to bring Ardeth home. If not. . .if not, at least now they had all of their strength to call upon. All of their strength, which they could then give to Celia, and whoever else needed it.


	15. Turning the Tide

Yes, I am back! I apologize in advance. . .this chapter is a wee bit shorter than the others, but I was sitting here after I finished the final section and thought, 'no. Go any further, and you'll spoil it.' So, we pick up the action once more in the next chapter.

Reviews:

Lindaleriel: First, I do apologize for the incorrect spelling of your name, but I'm afraid my keyboard doesn't have the proper accents, umlauts, and what not. It's rather old. In any event, we're quite pleased to have you. I've been spending a fair amount of time in the '_Lord of the Rings'_ section lately. I just bought the book last weekend and started reading it. . .once I'm finished, I have a story to post over there. Just need to work out some bugs. I can tell you that the working title is '_Silent Guardian_.'

Mommints: I couldn't write a _TT/Mummy_ story focusing on Helm's Deep, without writing a pov section for Haldir. Just couldn't do that. I think, though, that additional strength may be needed for a pair of young Hobbits, one of whom is trying desperately to muster some greatly needed aid for his friends.

Bel: I am, indeed, as fine as possible. It took me many years, but I did come to terms with Alexia's death. The years of 1981-1982 were very bad ones for me. I lost my grandfather, my best friend, and what little remained of my self-esteem was shattered by a third event, which I will not go into here. I am all right, though. . .I've healed in no small part due to my writing. It's interesting that you mention that Celia's role as Miranda's mother sets her apart. . .going back over Celia's many sisters in fandom, I realize that most, if not all, are mothers. And usually, mothers of daughters. It isn't, I realize that I dislike men. . .far from it. But for most of my early life, I had brothers and male cousins, so I believe I created daughters for my characters to balance that out. In any event, you are quite correct. . .Celia is defined as much through her relationships with Miranda and Jason as her eventual relationship with Ardeth. She is both mother and older sister to Jason, in fact. I would have to agree about Haldir. . .and also about why Gimli and dwarves as a whole dislike Elves. I'm glad you enjoyed the explanation of why Ardeth understands Westron. . .it's somewhat different from the explanation of Seti or Lady Ardath understanding. Then again, those two are dead, so the rules are somewhat different for them. One thing about Celia. . .she's actually fairly quiet (until Rick or someone else ticks her off), but she doesn't know how to give up. She's not willing to give up on Ardeth, until she's able to touch his cold skin and know he's dead. As for the Uruk-hai pounding, I took that directly from comments made about the New Zealand team. As Ardeth observes, it's a psych-out technique, not that different from my father's football team when he was in high school, wearing orange and black jerseys. Reed Horton. . .mmm. I hadn't really thought about him being an equivalent of Lock-nah, though I'm sure Derek Rayne (_PTL_, played by Derek de Lint) would consider it a fair remark. In all honesty, though, Reed Horton won many advocates for granting him redemption when he killed Derek's annoying girlfriend, Megan Torrence (girl reporter). He had that going for him, plus his love for his daughter (mentioned, never shown). I'll have to think about that a little more.

Terreis: Yeah, that's what we say about Marcus Cole's death in _Babylon Five_. But remember, Terreis, that all time traveling has a consequence. This is no different. Ardeth's presence in Middle Earth has already changed several things, and several more things will change. Just remember that. Spooty. . .ah, I've learned a new word! I like it! Glad that the explanation for Anck battling Nassor/Jonathan even after she realized whom he was made sense.

Sailor Elf: First rule when writing. . .never, ever, compare yourself to other writers. It just frustrates you. Develop yourself. . .I wish I could find some of the fanfic I wrote when I was eighteen and nineteen (shudder). Truly awful stuff. Trust me. I had a lot of fun writing about the Miranda incident, in part because I never really meant to do it. It just happened. . .like it so often happens. What can I tell you? Gimli inspires me, especially when he and Ardeth banter.

The Woods Witch: Thank you, dearling! I will be including certain bits of _ROTK_ in this story (including one in this section), but I won't be going all the way to the end. Rephrase that. I don't plan on going to the end of _ROTK_, but I won't say it won't happen. Right now, however, Ardeth is telling me that he goes home after the confrontation with Saruman. Oh, and I can tell you something else. . .the confrontation with Saruman will be a mixture of book verse, movie verse, and my verse.

Okay, on with the chapter!

Part Fourteen

Time was running out. It was running out for them, it was running out for Frodo and Sam, it was running out for the rest of the Fellowship. Time was running out for Middle Earth, and Meriadoc Brandybuck was at an Entmoot, waiting for a decision from the Ents. A decision about what came next. . .what would the Ents do? Merry and Pippin couldn't help their friends on their own. . .they needed the aid of the Ents. Yet, Treebeard told them that he promised Gandalf that he would keep them safe, "and safe is where I will keep you."

It was a most interesting journey, as Treebeard carried them deep into the Forest.

Along the way, he recited poetry and told them stories of the Forest in years gone by. For a time, lulled by the motion and the sound of Treebeard's voice, both cousins slept. Besides, they were both exhausted by their time in the hands of the Uruk-hai, worn down by grief for Boromir, as well as fear and worry, not just for themselves, but for Frodo and Sam, and now for Ardeth.

Boromir was dead, but there was still hope for Ardeth. Gandalf promised that he would look after their new ally, and Merry was convinced he was waiting for the remnants of the Fellowship. Aragorn had some skill as a healer, Merry knew. . .between Aragorn and Gandalf, Ardeth would be fine, wouldn't he? Merry wanted to believe that. He truly did. He wanted to believe that he would have a chance to see his unexpected rescuer again, and thank Ardeth for protecting him while the traveler was alert.

Pippin said softly, "Merry," and the worried Hobbit turned to face Treebeard as the ancient Ent approached. Finally! They had been waiting such a long time! The cousins stood side by side, Merry still marveling at the sight of the walking tree. Of course, Treebeard was not a tree. . .he was an Ent. But he was still a most impressive sight, especially now that he wasn't squeezing Merry and Pippin.

"We have just agreed. . ." Treebeard began. Merry and Pippin exchanged a look. Merry could see some of his own fears and hopes reflected in his cousin's eyes. A part of him worried they were getting too much ahead of themselves. After all, the last time the Ents talked amongst themselves for any length of time, it turned out they were still saying '_good day_.' Hobbits could be garrulous, but that was ridiculous!

At last, it was Pippin who prompted, "Yes?" Merry would have smiled at his cousin, but he was entirely too anxious to hear the judgment of the Ents. Would the ancient creatures aid them in their quest? Would they help the Fellowship deal with Saruman? Part of this burden was Frodo's to carry. . .but Frodo had troubles of his own. Merry saw how the Ring was affecting Frodo. If in some small way, Merry could alleviate Frodo's burden, he would do so.

Merry owed Saruman the Betrayer, Saruman the Deceiver, and he was burning to pay that debt in any way he could. These thoughts abruptly disappeared as Treebeard pronounced, "I have told the Entkind your names, and we have agreed. . .you are not orcs." Merry stared at the Ent in shock. That was it. . .that was what they decided? No, surely there was more, surely Treebeard was keeping something back!

Pippin said, "Well, that's good." He looked at Merry as he spoke. Merry returned the glance, then looked at Treebeard, waiting expectantly. There had to be more. He ignored the voice in the back of his head which told him there was no more, that the decision about Saruman and what to do about him had not even come up yet. He could not accept that. He simply could not. There had to be more!

It was for this reason that he asked urgently, "And what about Saruman? Have you come to a decision about him?" Merry honestly didn't care who killed or dealt with Saruman. Truly, he did not. Saruman had to be stopped. That still left Sauron, but Merry could not return to the Shire, without knowing Saruman was no longer a threat to him and to those whom he loved most. So long as Saruman remained, so did the threat to the Shire.

Treebeard didn't seem to understand this, for he answered, "Now don't be hasty, Master Meriadoc!" Merry stared at the Ent, utterly nonplussed. Pippin, oddly enough, was saying very little. Merry didn't pay much attention to that. . .he was struggling to control his frustration and despair. The Ents would not help them. . .he had to convince them that Saruman was a threat to everything. . .Hobbits, elves, Men, dwarves, and Ents.

Thus, it was in a disbelieving tone that Merry responded, "Hasty? Our friends are out there! They need our help! They cannot fight this war on their own!" He stepped forward as he spoke, trying to make himself understood to the Ent.

It was either very brave or very foolish, considering Treebeard could easily flatten him, as he did the Uruk-hai. Treebeard leaned forward, looking Merry in the eye, replying, "War, yes, it affects us all. But you must understand, young Hobbit." His voice took on a musical cadence, almost as if he was singing, "it takes a long time to say anything in Old Entish. And we never say anything unless it is worth taking a long time to say."

Merry looked away, deeply frustrated by what the Ent was telling him. He understood what Treebeard was saying. In some ways, it reminded him of the journey to Rivendell with Aragorn, back when they knew him as Strider. The meals of the day and Strider's confusion about them. Merry would have smiled at the memory, but he didn't feel like smiling. He felt like weeping from sheer frustration. . .but he didn't. What good would it do?

. . .

In Rivendell, Seti, Pharoah of All Egypt, decided he said enough. Arwen and Celia were taking care of each other in the dream plane. . .they would be safe. Even if Saruman was foolish enough to attack while Arwen was there, Seti knew the Elf and the woman would be well protected by other ghosts. Technically speaking, of course, Arwen was a ghost, but technicalities never truly interested Seti.

He heard about too many of them, just from listening to Celia talk about her time in the Legacy. For all that she grew up in the secret society, her years as a supernatural cop took their toll on her. When she met his son, she was exhausted. . .physically, emotionally, and mentally. The Legacy did that, Seti decided long ago. . .the lucky ones were like Celia, the ones who had an out of some kind.

Too many others had the life sucked out of them, until their entire world revolved around the Legacy. These unfortunates sought release in most unhealthy ways. Seti knew his faults, knew he did badly by Anck-su-namun. But he would have never done to his children what was done to the so-called Legacy brats. The children of the Legacy, such as Celia. Their parents were incapable of dealing with their mind-bending world, and took escape in drugs and alcohol.

And then they took it out on the bodies and souls of their little ones. Then claimed to be doing it for the good of their children. To make them stronger, to make sure they survived. Those were the exact words of one late Legacy member when he was confronted with his behavior. Seti shivered when Celia related that particular story, found in the Legacy archives. She laughed a little sarcastically, then added, "Gee, I wonder what excuse Boyle used for beating his wife? To make her stronger? To make sure she survived. I rather think not. He was a coward. . .not only was he a coward, but he was a lying coward, too. Abusers are bad enough. . .but don't try to hide it behind some noble idea."

There was such bitterness in her voice when she spoke of the Legacy, Seti feared for her sometimes. So much bitterness, so much anger. After Seti healed his son, he took to visiting Ardeth in his dreams, and told him his fears for Ardeth's wife. His son nodded, looking troubled, and admitted that he believed it would take one final confrontation with her former employers before Celia was finally free of that rage and bitterness.

A Legacy team would be arriving in Cairo the following year, Seti knew, to investigate the fall of Cairo House. Perhaps Celia would find her peace then, with the younger society. Seti hoped so. There was so much to face. She would need all of her strength. All of her strength, and the strength that surrounded her. Ardeth, Anck, Seti, Rick, Evelyn, even the betrayer. She would need them all, and even with that bastion of strength, Seti still had his doubts about whether it would be enough. _It will_, he thought with more than a trace of cynicism, _be most interesting to see what happens when the Legacy meets its parent organization_!

And speaking of his son. . . Seti left Elrond alone in his daughter's room, alone to think over what Seti told him. With just a thought, the dead pharaoh arrived at Helm's Deep. He frowned with confusion as his eyes lit upon the dwarf, Gimli, who was counting grimly as he killed each Uruk-hai, "Seventeen. . .eighteen. . .nineteen. . .twenty. . .twenty-one. . .twenty-two." Why in the name of Asu was he counting his kills?

"He and the young elf have an orc-slaying contest, Father," came the amused voice of his daughter-in-law, "and Gimli is intent on besting the elf prince." Seti looked down as a small hand slipped into his elbow, then looked into his daughter's face. Ardath smiled at him, saying softly, "As you say. My spirit-twin is under the protection of Lady Arwen. And Ardeth is still my descendent. He is my Rameses reborn, but when I look at Ardeth, I see not my lover. . .but my son." Seti nodded his understanding. Yes, of course. Ardeth carried the name of her son, and aside from one difference. . .the lighter eyes of that first Ardeth. . .they looked alike.

He would have said as much, but movement caught his eye. Seti turned his attention back to the fortress being defended by his son. The Uruk-hai were marching up toward the keep, their shields placed over their backs. They reminded Seti, in fact, of giant scarabs. He shuddered at that thought. His distaste was replaced a moment later with confusion. What exactly were they up to?

He wasn't the only one who knew nothing good would come of this. Aragorn noticed as well, and screamed in Elvish (something Seti found annoying. . .how many of the Rohirrim knew Elvish, after all. . .and did they not require his commands?). He gestured wildly at the approaching attackers, his eyes wild and desperate. The Elven archers commenced firing into the marching Uruk-hai. It thinned their ranks, but did not stop them.

Of course, it did not help the cause of the defenders at all when their idiot king demanded with a contemptuous curl to his lips, "Is this it? Is this all you can conjure, Saruman?" Seti groaned. He did _not_ just say that! It was not remotely possible that even Theoden was that stupid. . .not after spending such a long period time under the sway of the aforementioned sorceror.

"Truly, Father," Ardath sighed, resting her cheek against his shoulder in a manner that reminded Seti of Nefertiri, "I believe that question will be ranked among questions such as '_what harm_ _ever came from reading a book'_ or more recently, '_what harm ever came from opening a chest._' But at least Evelyn has the excuse that she was young and inexperienced. Theoden should know, especially by now, that Saruman has no limits to his depravity or his schemes."

Indeed, his daughter spoke truly, for only a moment later, Theoden King's foolish question was answered. The weak point of the Deep, of which Eowyn told Ardeth, was the target of the foul beasts. Seti's blood ran cold as he saw a huge, spiked ball being carried toward said weak point. _What in the name of Anpu was that thing_? It was nothing good, that was for certain. Ardath gasped, "Niy. It cannot be!"

Seti looked at her sharply, asking, "Daughter? What is it?" Ardath merely pointed back to Helm's Deep. Her hands were shaking, and Seti realized this had to be a very bad thing. However, he looked in the direction she indicated. At first, he almost laughed, for the Uruk-hai currently jogging toward the grate holding the giant ball reminded him rather strongly of the torch-bearer at the opening and closing ceremonies of these modern games, the Olympics. A warped torch-bearer, but a torch-bearer nonetheless, complete with 'teammates' cheering him on. At least, Seti thought it was a male. He wasn't about to check for himself!

Then it occurred to him, what he was seeing. . .a torch-bearer. He was heading for the grate inside the tunnel, the weak point of the fortress. Seti looked at his daughter-in-law, silently begging her to tell him that he was wrong. She did not. Instead, Ardath choked out, "It is a bomb of some kind. A. . .a. . .an incendiary device, as they call it now. Seti, it is filled with something that resembles gunpowder, though I know not how Saruman knows of it!"

"He is a wizard, child," Seti answered grimly, "he finds ways to make his will happen. That is what wizards do." He closed his much larger hand over her slender fingers. He wanted to go down there. He wanted to stop those foul creatures from completing their evil task. But he was utterly helpless here and now. This was not like when he healed Ardeth. Lock-nah's resurrection was far from natural, and to bring the world back into balance, Anck-su-namun was permitted to call Seti forth.

This, however. . .this was different. He had no place here. . .this was thousands upon thousands of years before his own time, and Seti knew not if he had a counterpart in this world, in this time. Even if he did, there was a good chance that counterpart was thousands of miles away. He could have been in Gondor. Or even an Elf who sailed for Valinor (he rather hoped he wasn't an orc or an Uruk-hai). There was nothing he could do. . .nothing his dear daughter could do, either. It was all up to Aragorn, Ardeth, Gimli, and Legolas.

And fortunately, Seti and Ardath were not the only ones who saw this new danger. Once more, Aragorn shouted in Elvish, but this time, Ardath quietly translated, "He is saying, '_Bring him down, Legolas. Kill him! Kill him_!' And do not look at me in such a way, Father. . .you should know that I have learned to hear in different languages. It comes from my background, as you well know." Seti struggled against his smile.

He did indeed. Daughter of a Pict and a Hibernian chieftain's daughter, raised by the Israelite slaves and concubine of an Egyptian prince, Ardath did indeed have the background to learn any language. She added soberly, "Look. Legolas is firing his arrows, and his arrows strike their target. . .but it will not be enough." She was right. The young elf was firing arrow after arrow, but it was all for naught.

The wounded torch-bearer gave a mighty lunge, disappearing inside the tunnel, and a half-second later, there was an explosion. A small explosion at first, then there was huge hole where there was once a wall of stone. Seti saw many campaigns during his years as a soldier and as Pharoah. . .but he never saw anything like this. He could not fight his gasp of horror, especially as Ardath's fingers tightened around his elbow.

The second, more devastating explosion hurtled stone and men into the air, before crashing to the ground. More correctly, they landed upon the spears of the Uruk-hai. Seti cringed, but he did not look away. Nor did Ardath. His brave daughter. Imhotep was a fool, for believing her weak. The pharaoh could not be certain if the beings thrown into the air, then shish-kebobbed were men, Elves, or Uruk-hai. . .or all three.

And they were not his children. Seti pitied them, and even mourned them (the elves and men), but his concern was for his son. He looked for Ardeth, but it was his daughter-in-law who said softly, "There. . .within a hand's grasp of Aragorn. As if my child knew what was coming, and was trying to protect Aragorn before the blast." Seti nodded. His son lay face-down, debris covering his face and hair. . .the same was true of Aragorn. Both men were unconscious.

Satisfied that his son was merely unconscious, not dead, Seti turned his attention to the others. Several elves were thrown to the ground by the force of the blast. And Theoden turned his head toward the explosion, frowning at the sound. Water rushed into the breech, and the confusion turned to shock and horror. _Tiyu_, Seti thought grimly, _your great fortress has been breached. Now what shall you do?_

In Theoden's defense, his shock lasted only a brief time, as a ripple went through the Uruk-hai. The ones on the end were being knocked off the bridge by their own. . .men? Comrades? Tiyu, that was the best way of putting it. He wasn't entirely certain that orcs or Uruk-hai even _had_ friends. Were they capable of loyalty to anything or anyone other than Saruman and themselves? It was hard to say. . .he knew very little of this world, and even less of these strange creatures. The ripple reminded Seti once more of scarabs, then Ardath muttered, her hand tightening around Seti's forearm, "Niy, not that! Tis a battering ram, Father. . .the blast was merely to soften up the defenders!"

Theoden called as he sighted the battering ram, "Brace the gate!" With his dead eyes, Seti could see in the fortress, could see the defenders rushing to brace the gates, with their own bodies. Brave men, they were. Every last one of them. He would have been proud to have them in his army. Theoden called once more, his voice ringing out above the din of battle, "Hold them! Stand firm!" As the defenders inside the gate struggled to do just that, other soldiers were opening the slats to throw rocks and spears down upon the Uruk-hai.

They continued to progress, but the fiercely determined defenders also continued to hold their positions. Seti tore his eyes away from those defenders, seeking out and finding his son. Ardeth was still unconscious, as was Aragorn, although Gimli was starting to stir. He seemed stunned, rather unconscious. That, at least was something for which they could be grateful. Now, if only he could remind his daughter-in-law of that, as she was gripping his hand tightly.

Normally, comforting his daughter-in-law when she was concerned for her distant child fell to his son. However, Rameses was otherwise occupied, Seti discovered. . .infuriated that he could not follow his reincarnation to Middle Earth, Rameses chose to remain on the dream plane. It was pointed out to him that his concubine's reincarnation had quite enough protectors. . .the person who was foolish enough to speak so to him was rewarded with one of Rameses's blackest glares. Wisely, they shut up. Immediately.

_At least_, Seti thought with a sigh,_ I do not have to worry about further arguments between my son and my nephew in the afterlife_. Moses was in another part of the Afterlife, where he and Rameses would never meet. A fact for which Seti was extremely grateful. It was difficult enough to hold Rameses back after Moses insulted Ardath the first time. . .Seti had no wish for further confrontations between the two hotheads.

The confrontation he was watching now was enough. Aragorn, thank Asu, was waking up. Just in time, as the Uruk-hai approached his position. Gimli saw the danger as well. He was on his feet, yelling the exiled king's name, and literally took a flying leap. Right in the middle of the Uruk-hai. Ardath murmured, "Brave one, that Gimli, or foolish. I am not sure which. That reminds me of something Ardeth would have done, perhaps ten years ago."

"You mean his, '_save the girl, kill the C_r_eature_' era?" Seti asked wryly as Aragorn shouted Gimli's name. It was actually less than ten years earlier, but Seti took her point. She was right, of course. That was part of the reason the dwarf was becoming so fond of Ardeth. Gimli was, to use a phrase favored by young Alex O'Connell, kicking some serious Uruk-hai ass. Aragorn was pushing himself to his feet, still a little wobbly after the explosion. Ardeth was conscious by this time as well, and was struggling to stand at Aragorn's side.

He looked battered and exhausted. . .and utterly determined. Seti was beyond proud of his son in that moment. He knew how tired Ardeth was. He knew his son ached all over. But he made a promise, and that promise was being kept. Yes. He was truly proud of his son reborn. Ardeth limped to Aragorn's side, as Gimli was submerged in a puddle of water. Aragorn called a command, and arrows flew past him and Ardeth, finding their targets in the bodies of the Uruk-hai currently menacing the dwarf. _How do they manage that_, Seti wondered, _do they aim their bows and arrows slightly around Aragorn, to avoid striking him_?

A moment later, another command was issued, as Aragorn held his sword out at shoulder-height. He and Ardeth led the charge, the elves and the Rohirrim right behind. The two armies met, Aragorn and Ardeth right in the thick of things. They made their way through the Uruk-hai, slashing, kicking, punching and stabbing any orc who was foolish enough to get in their way. Seti found himself wishing he could join the two!

A movement from above the two warriors caught Seti's attention. Legolas drew something from behind him and threw it on the steps, then jumped on it. He glided down, firing his arrows all the way. Seti nodded his approval, seeing the totally focused expression on the young man's face. Good lad. Ardath said, her voice filled with a mixture of wonderment and amusement, "How very clever. . .an elven skateboard!"

"Please, my daughter, do not tell young Alex O'Connell about that. . .he will wish to know why Ardeth did not bring one back for him!" Seti pleaded with his daughter-in-law, only half-joking. He knew the son of his daughter reborn well. Alex would, indeed, wish to have such an elf-board. Ardath responded with a mock-glare, then her expression clouded. Knowing his daughter-in-law well, Seti added gently, "It is common, sweet girl. Soldiers find humor where they can, for it helps them keep their sanity."

"You are a soldier, but I am not," Ardath answered quietly. Seti shook his head, watching the battle. He watched it all. He watched Haldir, the March Warden who led the elves to Helm's Deep, fighting two foes at once. The lad was somewhat like Ardeth in that respect. Seti never encountered Haldir before Helm's Deep. He knew not what went before. He only knew the respect Haldir showed Ardeth here, and that was all he needed to know.

He watched, too, as his son and Aragorn reached down and pulled Gimli up out of the water. Seti wondered a bit absently how long a dwarf could hold his breath underwater, and with a start, the pharaoh realized no more than a moment or two had passed since Gimli went underwater. Which still begged the question. Just how long could a dwarf hold his breath? Seti realized he wasn't that keen on learning the answer.

Instead, he told his daughter-in-law, "My dearest child. . .do you see those boys and old men, defending this Keep? They are, as Aragorn said, farmers, farriers, stableboys. Most of them, if they ever served, it was a long time ago. The rest of them? Never were soldiers. But that will not prevent them from doing what must be done. You are no different. You are not a soldier. . .but you are a warrior. You ever have been."

Ardath looked at him, her eyes appearing almost green. That was something about her features which Seti always loved. She was not beautiful, in the way of Nefertiri or Anck-su-namun. She never was. Exotic, yes. . .because of her fair skin. But not beautiful, not in the traditional sense. Court intrigues could be exhausting. But Ardath, even when she said nothing, was honest. To know what she was thinking, one had only to look into her hazel eyes. If her eyes appeared green, she was joyful or mischievous. And if her eyes were almost black, she was furious. . .twas best to stay out of her way when her eyes were like obsidian. Seti knew it. The Med-jai knew it. Anck-su-namun knew it. Rameses knew it.

Seti continued, "Ask Rameses. . .or your son. Sometimes, laughter is needed for a soldier, a warrior, to maintain his sanity. Tiyu. . .sometimes it is what is called 'gallows' humor in today's world. But humor it is, nonetheless. It was true in my time, in our time. It is true now. You do not dishonor them. . .and you must never think that you do. It is in the laughter and the joy whom they love most that they find their strength, when their own has been sapped."

His daughter-in-law's mouth firmed and her chin raised, as she said, "Then they may take whatever strength they need from me, Father. I have all the strength of my previous incarnations to call upon. The ones who knew not even that they had a Rameses somewhere in the world. The incarnations after me will give strength to Celia. . .and the people of this time, of this Middle Earth, have mine."

Seti gazed at his daughter-in-law, pride swelling within him. He said quietly, honestly, lovingly, "Arwen was right. Regardless of your title, regardless of words spoken by a priest. . .you have ever been Rameses' wife. And you are a princess in all the ways that matter. Well said, my daughter. Well said." He squeezed her hand again, and that won him a small smile from his daughter-in-law. They turned their attention to the increasingly desperate battle. Seti didn't know if Ardath could give her strength to any of these people. . .but he wasn't about to tell her that she shouldn't try.

. . .

None knew of Lady Ardath's ghostly presence in Middle Earth. . .but at least one could have benefitted from her promise to provide strength and succor. Two, if you counted Peregrin Took. At the moment, the young Hobbit and his cousin were almost holding their respective breaths, as Treebeard approached them once more. Pippin was more concerned about his cousin, really, than anything else. Merry was taking everything to heart. . .it was as if something inside him broke when Boromir fell.

Or was it when Ardeth was flung into a tree while he was trying to defend them? Pippin didn't know. He only knew that he was afraid for his cousin, especially if Merry didn't receive the answer he hoped for from Treebeard. He knew not how Merry would react. True, Pippin simply reacted in grief and rage when Boromir fell for the last time, his eyes glazed over with pain. . .but it was different for Merry.

Pippin was reminded of this when Treebeard spoke, drawing the attention of both Hobbits. He said, "The Ents cannot hold back this storm. We must weather such things as we have always done." The decision of the Entmoot came not as a surprise to Pippin. What had Treebeard said when they first met the Ent? '_Side? I am on no one's side, because nobody is on my side_.' No, he wasn't really surprised by the decision.

The same couldn't be said for Merry. He stepped forward, once more ignoring that Treebeard and the other surrounding Ents were considerably larger than he. Merry's eyes were blazing as he cried out, "How can this be your decision?" Pippin briefly considered pointing out to his cousin that the Ents could easily squash them, then decided it would make little difference.

And in any event, Treebeard was telling Merry, sounding very calm indeed, "This is not our war." Indeed. '_I am on no one's side, because nobody's on my side_.' Pippin wondered what his cousin was thinking about. Why he was so determined to return to the quest. They joined this quest. . .this mission. . .quite by accident. First by encountering Sam and Frodo as they left the Shire, then by deciding they would accompany Frodo to Mordor.

Indeed, it seemed that such was their fate in this entire quest. They fell into things. None of this happened by design, at least not by the design of the two Hobbits at the Entmoot. They fell into the journey to Rivendell, they fell into the Fellowship, they fell into the hands of the Uruk-hai, rushing to defend the fallen Boromir. Was this really their war? Their problem? Perhaps Treebeard had the right of it.

And then Merry said something very strange. He cried out, "But you're part of this world! Aren't you?" The surrounding Ents looked at each other almost guiltily, as if that was something they never even considered. Truly, nor had Pippin thought much on it. Loyalty to his friends and to the Fellowship carried him this far. Merry continued, his voice growing raw with desperation and frustration, "You must help! Please! You must do something!"

"You are young and brave, Master Merry. But your part in this tale is over. Go back to your home," Treebeard counseled, before turning away. There was compassion and even sympathy in his voice, but the Ents had spoken. One by one, they all turned away, leaving the two Hobbits alone. Merry stared after them, his mouth working as he tried to speak. At last, he shook his head and turned away.

He retrieved his jacket and put it on. His back was to Pip, who watched his despondent cousin anxiously. At last, Pippin left his place in the shadows to try to comfort Merry. He said softly, "Maybe Treebeard is right. We don't belong here, Merry. It's too big for us. What can **we** do?" Pippin paused, then continued with a smile that could be heard in his voice as he put his hand on his cousin's shoulder, "We've got the Shire. Maybe we should go home."

Merry said softly, his back still to Pippin, "The fires of Isengard will spread. And the woods of Tuckborough and Buckland will burn." Pippin froze, hearing a certainty bordering on prophecy in those words, and Merry turned to face him, his eyes burning with that same certainty. The elder cousin continued, the intensity in his voice growing, "And. . .and all that was once great and good in this world will be gone!"

Pippin could only stare at his cousin in silent horror. Merry gripped his shoulder now, as he added, "There won't be a Shire, Pippin!" With those words spoken, Merry released his shoulder and stalked away. Pippin was left standing there, stunned and speechless, a feat neither Frodo nor Sam would have thought possible. But Pippin, who could see humor in almost every situation, could see no humor here.

_There won't be a Shire, Pippin_. Suddenly, everything made perfect, horrible sense to Pippin. Merry saw something that he missed. Merry saw that Saruman threatened their Shire, their very way of life, and he was determined to stop the fallen white wizard.

The only way they could do that was with the aid of the Ents. Merry had been carrying this burden for who knew how long. It was Pippin's turn. He would find a way to make things up to his cousin, for taking so long to see what Merry now told him. Treebeard came to collect them a short time later, scooping them up into his great hands and carrying them north. Merry was silent, sullen even.

Pippin was thinking furiously, trying to figure out a way he could help Merry, how he could help convince the Ents that not even they were safe from Saruman. And with every step Treebeard took, Pippin's own frustration mounted. There had to be something! Something that he missed, some mistake Saruman made. The Ents hated the orcs, Pippin had but to remember the orcs and the Uruk-hai as they approached Fan. . .

The Uruk-hai. Pippin paused. He heard snatches of conversations between two orcs, about the Uruk-hai and Isengard. Something was said about the trees at Isengard. . .the trees of Isengard were uprooted by Saruman. Pulled down, or hacked down. Yesssss. It was brought into focus when Treebeard said, "I will leave you at the western borders of the forest. You can make your way north to your home from there."

The trees. The forest. Saruman. The Uruk-hai. Pippin cried out, now seeing exactly what had to be done, "Wait! Stop! Stop!" Treebeard did so, coming to a halt that left both Hobbits swaying in his branches. Merry looked up at Pippin, frowning, and the younger cousin said, "Turn around! Turn around, take us south!" Yes. Yes, that would work. Pippin's mind was spinning as he put the pieces together. He might be considered a fool, but even fools were capable of brilliance from time to time.

"South?" Treebeard questioned, at first sounding as confused at Merry looked, "but that will take you past. . ._Isengard_." There was horror in the Ent's tone. Though if Pippin was correct, the Ent would be far more than horrified once they reached the border of Isengard. He didn't know what sort of destruction Saruman wreaked upon the trees surrounding Orthanc, but Saruman cared naught for creation. Only destruction. Whatever he did, it was likely to be ugly. Perhaps even uglier than Pippin could guess. However, that wasn't part of the equation, the impact such a sight would have on him.

"Yes. Exactly! If we go past Isengard, we can slip past Saruman, un-noticed. The closer we are to danger, the further we are from harm," Pippin replied, "it's the last thing he'll expect." Which was true enough. Saruman, given what he knew from Gandalf and others, did not expect other beings. . .be they Hobbits, Men, Elves, Ents, Dwarves, or other Istari. . .to act in a way opposite from himself. Gandalf referred to Ardeth as Strider's mirror in darkness, or he was meant to be, by Saruman. Yet Ardeth protected, contrary to Saruman's wishes.

Pippin didn't doubt that the newcomer's defiance infuriated Saruman. Ardeth defied him. Gandalf defied him. Now, two more beings were about to defy him, and if Pippin's plan worked, there would be many more acts of defiance before it was all over. It would work, though. Pippin could feel it. He felt only a little guilt at tricking Treebeard. But only a little. It was not he who was ultimately the guilty one.

Treebeard considered his words, then hoomed, adding, "That doesn't make sense to me, but then, you are very small. Perhaps you're right. South it is!" With that, he turned around, and Pippin clung to the Ent's branches. Treebeard advised, "Hold on, little Shirelings." Pippin's hands tightened further. Aye, there was no harm of him letting go, or Merry, either! Treebeard went on, "I always like going south. . .somehow, it feels like going downhill."

Merry looked up at him, disbelief warring with confusion as his cousin hissed, "Are you mad? We'll be caught!" Pippin just smiled at him. _Wait and see, Merry_, he thought, _wait and see_. But he said none of this. They would see. Soon enough, they would see. They all would see, and the help which Frodo, Sam, Aragorn, Gandalf, Gimli, and Legolas needed so badly would arrive.

"No, we won't," Pippin answered with a quiet confidence, glancing over at his cousin, "not this time." He looked away again, looked straight ahead. They had not far to go. And once they were there, Merry would understand. Fool of a Took, Gandalf called him in the Mines of Moria, in Balin's tomb. . .not such a fool now, was he?

. . .

They had changed things. Yes, Ardeth changed things in this distant past from whence Arwen came. But he was not the only one. Celia was well aware of the consequences of time travel. Something Saruman evidently never took into account. Ardeth was pulled back in time, and just by his existence in Middle Earth, he changed things. But she was changing things, and so was Seti. Seti, who could not allow his son to go anywhere without him.

That particular truth was brought home to her when Arwen asked curiously, "Celia? Why is. . .is that not Rameses? Ardeth's previous incarnation?" Celia looked in the direction indicated by her new friend, and gasped. The past incarnation of her husband inclined his head to the two women. So strange. She was Lady Ardath in her past life, and yet. . .it was very strange. This was, in reality, the first time she met Rameses. She, Cecelia Anne Ferguson Bey.

Those brief moments in Hamunaptra, after she and Lady Ardath vanquished Khaldun, didn't really count. Rameses appeared then, to be reunited with his Lady. He (and Ardeth) still could not forgive himself for the deeds he carried out after he lost his Lady, but now, at least, he would accept her love. . .would accept that she would always love him. And nothing he did could stop that. Nothing he did could change that, no matter how many times he tried to push her away. As she said, Ardeth still couldn't forgive himself. . .for what Rameses did, for what others tried to do to Ardeth and Celia. But at least in this life, he could accept that he needed her. . .and that she needed him.

The words were out before Celia was even aware that they were in her mind, and she said, "I bid thee welcome, Rameses, Prince of Egypt, Horus in the Nest." There were probably quite a few honorifics she was leaving out, but given that she was born in 1972, three millennia after this man died, she didn't think she was doing too badly. He apparently agreed, for he smiled at her, and Celia caught her breath. Oh Isis. . .Ardeth was most assuredly this man's reincarnation. Had she any doubts of that, his smile would have laid them to rest!

"I thank thee for thine welcome, Celia of the Med-jai. I greet thee, Arwen of Imladris. You were just thinking a moment ago, reincarnation of my love, that you and Seti have changed things in Middle Earth, just as surely as my own reincarnation and descendent has," Rameses said, abandoning the formal speech almost at once. Celia wasn't particularly surprised that he knew what she was thinking. This was the dream plane, after all.

Rameses continued, "You speak the truth. You and my father have indeed changed things. More my father than you. However, that is why I am here, to restore some balance. In the original timeline, Arwen would be on her way to the ship that would bear her to Valinor." Arwen's hand tightened around Celia's, and the queen from Arwen's future put her free hand in the small of Arwen's back, to give her friend much needed support.

Rameses wasn't finished. He went on, "Therefore, I show this to you now, so you will understand. In some ways, Celia, this is similar to the visions that Anck-su-namun, Ardath and I rendered unto the Carnahan-O'Connell family two years ago. When we showed to them, what might have been, if only a single thing is changed. For each change that is made, there are always consequences. You understand this. But Arwen needs to see what I am about to show her. This is not punishment, my Lady. But rather. . .an explanation."

Uh-oh. This didn't sound good. Celia stepped closer to Arwen, seeking to protect her friend. Perhaps it was foolish. Arwen was far older than Celia, she lived longer than Celia could imagine. But she was her friend now, and that was simply whom Celia was. She protected her friends, she protected her family, she protected her people. Arwen was one of hers now, and there was nothing more to be said.

Rameses waved his hand, and the 'screen' which showed one of Rameses and Ardath's other incarnations changed. A man was standing there, on what looked like a turret or a tower or perhaps a balcony. Celia couldn't see the man's face, as his back was to the door, but he had longish silvery hair. She didn't know the man, but he reminded her of Ardeth for some reason. She didn't know why that might be.

On the other hand, her companion did know him. Arwen whispered, "Estel?" It took Celia a moment to remember that 'Estel' was one of the many names given to Arwen's betrothed. In some ways, Celia thought she was lucky. . .Ardeth had only the one name, and that wasn't taking into account the private endearments she used for her beloved husband. Arwen's beloved was known as Estel, as Strider, and by his true and proper name, Aragorn. According to Arwen, it was likely that Aragorn would take on a new name when he was crowned king of Gondor. There was no doubt in her mind that said coronation would take place.

Aragorn was not alone. A moment later, a child ran into the picture. Aragorn turned and smiled, racing down the steps to meet the little before scooping the child up into his arms. He spun the little one around and around, pressing a kiss to the small face. Father and child laughed in delight, and Celia found herself smiling, for the scene very much reminded her of Ardeth when he had the opportunity to spend time with Andreas. Rameses said softly, "Tis the vision your father had of your future, Lady Arwen."

Arwen looked at Rameses in astonishment. Her lips parted, as if she meant to speak, but no words would come. Instead, the prince continued, "I know what your father told you. I know that he told you that he saw death in your future. What he did not tell you was that he also saw life. That he saw a child, a result of your love for Aragorn and his for you. . .a son. If you wish, I could tell you the name of this child, for it is in my past and your future."

"My son," Arwen echoed, her blue eyes wide with shock. . .and joy. She turned to Celia, taking her hands, and whispered, "Celia, I am to be a mother! Is he not beautiful? Oh, he looks just like Estel when he was a small one! Elrohir and Elladan told me much of Estel when he was a child." Celia said nothing, only smiled at her new friend's obvious joy. She said nothing, because she was sure in a matter of moments, that joy would be overwhelmed by something else.

She was right. As quickly as the joy came, it faded, and Arwen said softly, "He saw life, as well as death. Why did he not tell me it all?" Again, Celia said nothing, for it was wholly unnecessary. She knew why. So did Arwen. There was a part of the young queen that wanted to be angry with Elrond for his deception of his daughter. There was another part of her which understood just how far a parent would go to protect a child. It was that part of her which would not allow her to judge Elrond of Rivendell.

"The child is a possible future, my Lady Arwen. He can only come to be if Aragorn survives these coming battles, and if you do not journey to Valinor,"Rameses answered quietly. He started to say something else, but fell silent. Celia frowned. That reticence was most unlike Rameses. Her memories of Ardath told her that the prince rarely kept his opinions, about anything, to himself. Indeed, there were many times when Ardath wished Rameses would not be quite so vocal, as it tended to make things quite. . .interesting.

And Arwen was thinking of something else entirely. Which was to be expected, as she didn't have the memories of Ardath or any of the others to call upon. She didn't need them, she was an Elf, after all. Arwen said, focusing on something else that Rameses mentioned, "You say that this is your past and my future, my possible future, that you show me." Celia nodded, remembering the statement in question, but Arwen continued, her eyes boring into Rameses, "Do you mean to tell me that you have a. . .a counterpart in this time? A. . .a previous incarnation?"

"Indeed, I do. As does my son. We both have counterparts in this time. And they are known to you, though they are not whom my Ardath's reincarnation suspects," Rameses answered. Celia raised an eyebrow at that. Indeed? And could Prince Rameses even read half-formed thoughts, even when the person being read wasn't entirely certain what they were thinking? Rameses continued, "I inhabit this world, my Lady Celia. Of course I know what is in your mind and in your heart."

Point taken. She dipped her head in acknowledgment to this truth. And Arwen was still not letting go of this idea that she knew Rameses in some form in this world. And his son, Ardeth. Rameses added, "I do apologize, little queen. I forgot that you do not know the identity of my son in his most recent rebirth." _Ardeth was reincarnated within the last hundred years_? Rameses answered the unspoken question, "Indeed he was. And he has a counterpart in this time, which is why he was not permitted to join my father here."

Oh. That made sense. Rameses, however, was not finished. He looked at the two women with a slight smirk, saying, "My son was reincarnated in the Gregorian calender year 1942. He was reborn once more as a Med-jai. Suleiman Bey." What??? Celia actually felt her jaw become unhinged at this particular revelation. But if that truth shocked her, the greatest shock was yet to come, for Rameses added with a smile, "In this time, he is known as the Ranger Strider. . .and as Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir of Isildur."


	16. Salvation at Hand

Hey all. . .I'll try to post this before I leave for the airport. I'm off to Atlanta GA for DragonCon. I didn't quite make it to the finish, but came close. I have at most two more chapters (one to wrap up Middle-earth and one to bring Ardeth home). Three at the absolute most. Also, for anyone who has not yet seen _'Return of the King_,' there are spoilers here. If you haven't seen the movie, and don't want to be spoiled, skip the conversation between Seti and Rameses. But first. . .shout-out time!

Mommints: Delays are perfectly acceptable! Better late than never! I have the same problem. . .which is especially troubling when I'm at work and I lose track of what I'm doing after repeated interruptions. Hehehehe. . .you know, I absolutely love doing that. Knocking readers over with feathers. It's such fun! I know, I'm evil. Wait until you see what I did to poor Rameses in this chapter!

Sailor Elf: Yes, I had to end it where I did. . .I couldn't figure out how to follow up that whopper, so I decided to quit while I was ahead. (evil grin) Got another humdinger in this chapter. Story's almost done. . .yea!

Lindaleriel: Thankees, me dear! Yes, that particular comment of Ardath's has been frequently cited as a favorite line. In the second sequel to this story, '_The Med-jai Legacy_,' she has even more lines like that. My _Lord of the Rings_ fic is now up, and nope, no scarabs. More like. . .well, I'm not sure how to term the bugs. They sure as shootin' ain't ladybugs!

Aria-hannah: (giggles) Wow, thanks! Rameses taking on Saruman. That would be a fun battle. Take away Saruman's magic, and Rameses would thoroughly kick his butt. Ardath will probably be in most, if not all of the stories, in one form or another. She's the dominant incarnation, at least until Celia. Which is funny, when you consider that Imhotep always considered her weak. HA!

Deana: Ahhh, high praise indeed, from one of the Cliffhanger Queens! Glad you liked it! (bows slightly)

Part Fifteen

Arwen, daughter of Elrond and Celebrian, stared in shock at the handsome man who just pronounced this revelation. Her companion was no less shocked, yet it was Arwen who gasped, "Your. . .Ardeth's father? His previous incarnation, in my lifetime. . .was my Estel? But. . .but I know from my conversations with Celia that Ardeth's father looks little like Estel, how is this possible? I have seen many of your incarnations, from yourself to Ardeth, and they all are similar in appearance, so how. . .?"

"Because, Lady Arwen, your time is still more than twenty-five thousand years before my own. Man has evolved. . .or more precisely, changed. . .during that time period, as they always do. Men, as a group, and a man, as an individual. I can tell you little, but this I do know. . .I am not permitted to journey to Middle-earth, because my incarnations are there. So, too, is Suleiman Bey forbidden. . .but because a distant incarnation of his is there," Rameses answered.

He paused, then continued, "Many of your friends and companions have counterparts in this time. This, I know, in part because of the magick taught to me as the son of the pharaoh, and later, as Pharaoh himself. The identities of said counterparts are not for me to disclose. However, this, I may disclose. Were it possible for me to fight alongside my reincarnation and distant grandson, I would do so. However, I may not, and it is only for me to guard his queen in this time and place, should Saruman again attempt to harm her."

His dark eyes narrowed, and he added with a feral grin, "In a way, I should hope he does make such a fool attempt. Twould be my great and grand pleasure to teach him the error of his ways. Many times now, he has underestimated your Estel and his companions. And yet, each time, he fails to learn from his mistakes. I should be most grateful to teach him a lesson impossible even for Saruman the Foolish to forget!"

The pair looked at each other, then looked at Rameses, and finally, Arwen asked, "And, pray tell, are there any others in my time to whom you should like to teach a lesson?" She wasn't entirely sure if she wished to know the answer to that. One simply never knew what another would say. She knew this man not at all, and Celia knew him only through the memories of her previous self, Ardath.

Unexpectedly, there was only sadness in his eyes as Rameses answered, "Niy, Lady Arwen. Grima Wormtongue is not worth the energy of teaching him a lesson. Theoden and even the Steward of Gondor are not bad men, merely misled. Misled, misguided. Theoden is learning what he needs to know, and I fear for Denethor, Steward of Gondor. His use of the black stone ball, I believe it is called the_ palantir_, has driven him mad."

Arwen knew little of Gondor, but there was true compassion in the eyes of the prince when he spoke of Denethor. And she asked, "Why do you pity him, this Denethor? I see the compassion in your eyes when you speak of him." Arwen made no judgment toward the prince for his decision. She never met the Steward of Gondor, had no dealings with him whatsoever. But in her experience, people seldom felt compassion for others without reason.

"Because when I look at Denethor, I see a mirror image of myself after my Ardath was murdered. I did many things, after she was lost to me, Lady Arwen, which come close to being unforgivable. Because your present and future are my past, I may see what is to come. I see Denethor's fate. And I grieve for him. I grieve for his son, the valiant Boromir. . .and for his youngest son, the brave and compassionate Faramir. They both do remind me of my son as an adult, though I squandered the opportunity to watch Ardeth grow up," Rameses answered.

He paused, then continued, "I grieve for Denethor, because he is a good man, trying to protect his land and his people. A desire of nearly every ruler, or even guardian of a land. In order to properly protect his land and his people, his sanity is being destroyed in the process. I grieve for him because before his life is done, he will achieve deeds just as heinous as my own. . .including one that is nigh on unforgivable. Celia. . .you remember, do you not, mentioning the Russian emperor, Ivan the Terrible, and his similarities to me?"

Arwen's companion nodded with a thoughtful frown, explaining, "Yes, I remember that. Arwen, Ivan the Terrible is a ruler in the seventeenth century. . .about three hundred years before my own time. He actually started out very well. . .at least, as far as rulers go, particularly in that era. In the early years of his reign, he lost his beloved wife, and it drove him mad with grief and rage. One of the. . ." Celia stopped, paling suddenly. She looked at Rameses, who nodded at her gravely. After a moment, Celia went on, looking shaken, "One of the most horrendous of his deeds was. . .Ivan murdered his eldest son during an argument, in a blind rage."

Arwen gasped in horror at this revelation. A man killed his own child? It was unthinkable among her own people to do such a thing! It was unthinkable for a father or a mother to kill their child, it was equally unthinkable for a child to kill a parent. Celia wasn't finished. She asked in a low voice, "Rameses, are you telling me that this Denethor. . .he kills, or at least, tries to kill his own child? But why?"

"That, I cannot tell you, Celia. Nor can I tell you why I am forbidden to interfere, much as I desire to. I admire Faramir, Captain of Gondor. He is a brave young man, though more suited to scholarly achievement. But there is nothing I can do to help him. . .there is nothing I can do to help my own reincarnation. The fate of the young Captain of Gondor is not in my hands. Nor is it in Ardeth's hands, or even Aragorn's. I can tell you that if it is the will of the gods of Middle-earth that he be saved, the beings most capable of saving him will be there," Rameses answered.

He paused, watching them both, then said, "Now. . .the time has come for me to leave you both. I have given you both enough to consider. Arwen, this is the race to which your beloved belongs. Are you truly willing to set aside your grace and immortality to marry a Man?" Arwen's head snapped up at that, and she finally understood why Rameses told them about Denethor, Steward of Gondor.

"Shall I judge all Men by Denethor? Shall all Elves be judged by the Kin-Slayers? Shall all Istari be judged by Saruman? Nay! Aragorn is not Denethor. . .he has his capacity for darkness, as all creatures do, no matter if they are Elf, dwarf, Hobbit, or Man. But Denethor is not the man I love. . .Aragorn is. Does that answer your question, Prince Rameses?" Arwen demanded, her hands clenching into fists at her sides.

Rameses smiled and bowed, answering, "It does. Be not afraid, my Ladies. I will remain to watch over you both. . .as well as my previous incarnation." With that, he disappeared, and the two women looked at each other. His previous incarnation? They knew that Rameses' reincarnation Ardeth was here. . .but if they had a previous incarnation here as well, why was Ardeth permitted to come back to this time?

Unless, he would not be permitted to interact with this prior incarnation. That was what made the most sense to Arwen. However, Rameses never mentioned the name of said incarnation. . .did he? Or did he tell them, without being direct about it? No matter. No matter, there were other things for Arwen to watch over for now, including her new friend. And Arwen would not abandon Celia to Saruman. Not now. Not ever.

. . .

"That was not among your wiser moves, Rameses," Seti told his son as the pair phased into the same area together. Rameses raised an eyebrow, and Seti explained, "Acknowledging that Ardeth's, and your, prior incarnation was already in this time. They will figure it out, without a doubt." Rameses shrugged and Seti continued, "Or is that not even troubling to you? They will see your and Ardeth's prior incarnation, and wonder what happened."

"Ardath already knows the truth. I told her when we were at last reunited. I told her of the memories that awakened with our son's birth. My dreams, my memories, of fire and fear. The smell of oil. I remembered everything, Father. I remembered when Ardeth was born, and when my Ardath was murdered. . .I had not the strength to cope with it. All of my strength was spent in keeping her alive, and pushing back the memories," Rameses answered.

Seti was silent briefly, then asked, "Then you do not forgive Denethor?" Rameses spun around to face him, mocking laughter ringing through the chambers. Seti closed his eyes. Perhaps that was a foolish question. Forgiveness was not a family trait that came easily to Seti or his son, or even his grandson. Less of all self-forgiveness. Seti continued, "That is why you could not forgive yourself after Ardath was murdered."

"Father, I carry the memories of Denethor, son of Ecthelion! A once-proud and noble man who tried to burn his own child alive! Do you see now why I wish Ardeth to never remember his lives before mine? His memories. . .my deeds. . .almost shattered him. Do you know what the Denethor memories would do to him? Ardeth is nothing like my previous incarnation. Nothing, but Ardeth will not see it that way," Rameses answered.

He walked around his father, running his fingers through his black hair as he continued, "And that was not the first crime! He treated his son as if he was second best. Nothing about Faramir, son of Denethor, was second best. He was a man any sane individual would be proud to claim as a son. Intelligent, compassionate, brave, talented. He was a good man, and he deserved better than what Denethor gave him. What I gave him!"

"Those were different times, my son. And you are not Denethor. . .Ardeth is not you. Do you truly think, if that was the case, that Gandalf would have accepted Ardeth as he did? Niy! You know, just as well as I, my son, that Gandalf loved Faramir. That young Captain was a child of Gandalf's heart. Do you truly think that if Gandalf believed Ardeth was anything like Denethor, he would have tried to save him? That he would have enlisted his aid?" Seti asked.

"Why not? I told you, Father. I have all of Denethor's memories. Even at the end, Gandalf tried to save Denethor. Twas only when Pippin and Faramir were once more placed in danger that Gandalf's patience snapped. He tried to save Denethor, but Denethor did not wish to be saved," Rameses answered. He sighed, running his hand over his eyes. Seti watched his son compassionately. This was what they went through, every time the topic of past lives came up.

Though Rameses pitied Denethor, and even had compassion for him, Seti knew that his son could not truly forgive his previous incarnation. Twas the other reason Rameses gave Ardeth to Shakir after Ardath's murder.

The parallels were startling. . .Faramir was a child of five when his mother passed, and Ardeth was still an infant when his own mother was murdered. Rameses saw these parallels, and for many nights after Khaldun's murder, Rameses would awaken, screaming his son's name. Every night, he would dream of burning his precious final gift from Ardath alive. Rameses could not live with such a possibility, and so, gave that final gift to Shakir to raise.

Now, three thousand years later, Seti wondered if Khaldun was haunting Rameses' dreams, taking revenge in a subtle way. It was a possibility, though Seti never thought his nephew had that degree of subtlety. He knew it wasn't just Khaldun's blood on his son's hands that made Rameses fear that he was unworthy of Ardath and their son. . .but the recurring dreams. What concerned Seti, at the time, was that though Rameses called his infant son by name, he described him as an adult.

Not just an adult, but definitely not one of their people. The son in said dream had red hair and bright blue eyes. Indeed, at first, Seti feared that his son was being driven insane by the gods. After all, one of the descriptions provided of Sutekh, or Set, the trouble-maker, was a being with red hair and red eyes. . .or red hair and blue eyes. Perhaps Rameses was destined to fight a minion of Sutekh who took on the guise of Rameses' son.

He knew no better at the time, of course, and realized since just how wrong he was. But in his time, in his place, such a description was the closest the ancient Egyptians had to a devil. How could he be blamed for being wary? Indeed, even Ardath herself, who came from a land far distant, had dark hair and hazel eyes. Unusual coloring, but certainly not demonic or evil. How was he to know that this innocent boy was just that. . .an innocent?

On the other hand, Seti now understood why his son was so forgiving of his misdeeds where Anck-su-namun was concerned. With the nightmarish memories of his prior life, more than twenty-five thousand years earlier, it was no wonder indeed. Rameses began to speak once more, and Seti shook himself, forcing himself to listen as his son said softly, "There are times, Father, when I wonder if Middle-earth is part of the First Times mentioned."

"Indeed, anything is possible, my son. But this I do know. You carry the memories of Denethor, son of Ecthelion. . .but you are not he. How can you hold yourself responsible for events that transpired millennia before either of us were born? I know not who carries the memories of Faramir in Ardeth's time, but do you truly believe he. . .or she. . .will blame Ardeth for long-ago misdeeds? Faramir loved his father. . .and I believe he forgave him. Why can you not forgive yourself?" Seti asked.

Rameses didn't speak right away. His eyes were on the young man in question. Yet another reason for Seti to curse Saruman. . .the wizard had torn open his son's wounds. After a moment, he said softly, "Because the last sight Denethor ever saw was his son's eyes opening. He saw his son's eyes open and knew him to be alive. Just as the hobbit Pippin kept telling him. He was alive, but he needed medicine. Needed help. Denethor saw something else, I know not. Father, do you not see? I was lost to madness as well. I know not where Ardeth gets his strength, but if I did not know better, I would swear he is a reincarnation to Faramir, rather than Denethor."

Somewhere, in those muddled words was an answer. Seti would puzzle it out later. For now, he was needed at Helm's Deep, and Rameses. . . Seti thought about that for a moment, then said softly, "Then look upon your son of the past as long as you can. But remember. The hour draws near when Saruman will make his final bid for Middle-earth, and he will do that in whatever way he can." Rameses nodded, and with just a thought, Seti returned to the battle for Helm's Deep. He just hoped Gandalf arrived soon. The defenders of Helm's Deep were running out of time, energy, and men.

. . .

The battle for Helm's Deep continued. Around him, Ardeth saw and heard his friends fighting on. He shivered a little in the rain, but tried to ignore it. The fight was not yet done, and there was still much to do. A quick glance between opponents told Ardeth that Legolas was now fighting Uruk-hai, not with his usual bow and arrow, but with two swords. He and Gimli were continuing with that contest, then. Ardeth shook his head, trying not to smile. Why could he easily believe O'Connell would have taken part in such a contest?

The young man was distracted by shouting, and he killed his opponent almost absently. It took him a few moments to focus his hearing, then he realized it was Theoden, calling, "Aragorn! Fall back to the Keep! Get your men out of there!" Ardeth looked over at the other man. . .he was still having a hard time believing that Aragorn was in his eighties. . .and saw his friend's acknowledgment of this order.

Aragorn nodded his agreement and called to those in the mud with him, "To the Keep! Pull back to the Keep!" As men and elves finished their work, they began to head in that direction. A few were pursued by their opponents, but Ardeth quickly convinced the Uruk-hai that their attention was better served elsewhere. As those monsters were finished off, Aragorn made eye contact with Ardeth and jerked his head toward the Keep.

The command was clear. . .and it was a command. Ardeth inclined his head respectfully, though he made his displeasure known. He wanted to stay here and fight at Aragorn's side, but Ardeth knew the other man wouldn't leave so long as he was here. Legolas and another elf were carrying a cursing, protesting Gimli between them, and Ardeth followed them up. He passed the elf in command. . .Haldir, was it. . .on his way up, and Aragorn called, "Haldir! To the Keep!"

Ardeth was ahead of the elf by this time, so he never saw if Haldir acknowledged Aragorn's command. Nor did he see an Uruk-hai engage the platinum-haired elf. He didn't see the Uruk's weapon slice across Haldir's arm. But as he headed up the stairs after Gimli, fate intervened in a most unexpected way.

Unaccustomed to wet surfaces, Ardeth wasn't as careful as he usually would have been. In the years after the battle, once he was home safely with his family, Ardeth would shake his head at the truly strange way destiny played out. As he headed up the steps after his allies, Ardeth's foot slipped in mud and he was turned around forcibly. Thus, he saw an Uruk raise his axe, intending to bury it in the unprotected back of Haldir.

Perhaps it was foolish, perhaps it was something else. . .but Ardeth could not allow that strike to carry through. This Elf brought word, told him that Celia was under the protection of his Lady. He was a fellow defender, a fellow warrior, and though Ardeth barely knew him, the young man's sense of honor demanded that he do something, anything, to aid the valiant Elf, who remained distracted by the carnage around him.

Ardeth attacked the demon as he shouted out the top of his lungs, "LA!" The Uruk whirled around and Ardeth had only enough time to adjust his footing, before the animal responded to the attack. Ardeth parried each swing, ducking if he had to. And then, he was aided by Haldir, who attacked the Uruk from the other side. Ardeth was not bothered by that. . . how many times, during a fight, did Ardeth find himself facing more than one foe?

It mattered little now. Together, he and Haldir beat down the Uruk-hai, Ardeth finishing the fight by decapitating the demon. His balance wavered and he almost overcorrected, but Haldir grabbed him, putting his arm around Ardeth's waist to steady him. The Med-jai leaned heavily against him as Aragorn pounded up the steps, yelling first Haldir's name, then Ardeth's. He skidded to a stop at their side, sword up and ready for use. The other man looked at both the Med-jai and the elf, anxiety reflected in his gray eyes.

Anxiety turned to grief, then to rage, when Aragorn looked around Haldir and Ardeth, and saw all the dead elves. Haldir's dead brethren, and Ardeth wondered briefly if Haldir had any brothers or sisters. The Med-jai looked at his new ally, saw the grief in the Elf's eyes. Then he looked back at Aragorn. He was imagining what would have happened, if Ardeth wasn't there. Ardeth could see it in his eyes. Aragorn looked at Haldir, saying in Westron, "See him to safety!" There was barely time for Haldir to nod in acknowledgment.

Then Aragorn engaged an Uruk moving toward Haldir and Ardeth, drawing attention away from them. Haldir used that time wisely, drawing Ardeth up toward the Keep. However, as they headed toward relative safety, and perhaps even medical attention for their injuries, Ardeth took time to glance over his shoulder. Aragorn was fighting his way through the Uruk-hai like a man possessed. He reached the ladder, and in a move that took Ardeth's breath away, leaped onto the ladder, then pushed it away from the wall!

Aragorn rode the ladder down, landing right in the middle of the Uruk-hai, just as Gimli did earlier. That was the last Ardeth saw of Aragorn for some time, for Haldir guided him into the Keep. Men rushed around them and Haldir eased Ardeth into a seat. Whether it was a stone or something else, Ardeth didn't know. He didn't care, either. He was tired. He tried to remind himself once more that everyone else was tired, that everyone else was cold and wet and several were injured during the battle, which was not yet over, but. . .

He inhaled sharply as Haldir began checking his wounds. The elf's head snapped up as he beheld the wound low in Ardeth's gut, and he stared at the Med-jai in shock. The young human explained with a sigh, "The hobbits were in danger. I could not let the demons harm the little ones, whether they were children or not. And later. . .later, I was needed. I have fought with far worse injuries."

Haldir shook his head, though Ardeth wasn't certain the reason for his reaction. It mattered little. Haldir replied, "I can well imagine. I met them in the Woods of Lorien, my home. There I am a MarchWarden. . .we patrol the borders of our lands and our waters. There were four Hobbits. . .or halflings, as they are also called. The Ring-bearer, his gardener, and two others. I spoke mainly to Frodo, the Ring-bearer. . .the others were grieving for Mithrandir."

Ardeth frowned. . .Mithrandir? He knew of Boromir, who fell while defending the two Hobbits he encountered in the living Forest. Aragorn and his companions shared stories of the Captain-General. But who was Mithrandir? Haldir evidently saw his confusion, and explained, "Mithrandir. . .you would know him as Gandalf. They believed him dead. . .and he was. But he was resurrected as Gandalf the White."

Yes, now Ardeth remembered hearing about that. The two were silent as Haldir inspected Ardeth's wound, and after a moment, the Med-jai asked, "Do you have brothers, Haldir?" The elf looked up, a little surprised, but nodded, and Ardeth continued, "Are they older or younger than you?" He thought briefly about asking how old they were, then remembered how stunned he was by Legolas' revelation that he was three thousand years old.

"Younger. . .they are twins, Rumil and Orophin. What of you, Ardeth? Do you have any younger brothers or sisters? Or older, for that matter?" Haldir questioned, re-wrapping the wound. Ardeth hissed out his pain, riding it out. Haldir put his hand on Ardeth's shoulder, adding, "I do apologize, it was not my intention to cause you greater pain. . .but your ribs require greater stability, if you wish to keep fighting."

"I have a younger brother and two younger sisters," Ardeth answered, acknowledging the apology with a curt nod, "I had an older brother as well, but he died when I was seventeen. That was when leadership of the Med-jai passed to me." Haldir looked at him, shocked, but Ardeth added with a shrug, "We are warriors, you see. . .we do not expect to live long lives. And because of what we are, life is all the more precious to us."

He would have been lying to say that some lives were not more important to him. But life, as a general rule, was precious to the Med-jai. They were forced to spill blood in order to protect humanity from itself. If they did not regard life as precious, they would not be Med-jai.

Whatever Haldir was about to say was interrupted by shouts from the Gate, and the two warriors looked at each other. Ardeth realized with a shock that it was fear he saw in Haldir's eyes. The same fear that Ardeth himself felt. But the elf. . .who had likely lived far longer than Ardeth. . .smiled as reassuringly as he could, and said, "I believe you. This battle is not yet over, Ardeth of the Med-jai. "

Ardeth met the man's gaze steadily, replying, "No. It is not. Nor will it be, not so long as there is breath in our bodies. Aragorn knows not how to give up. . .nor do I." Ardeth smiled then, making Haldir's own smile widen. It was a smile between two warriors, making a promise to each other. Whatever happened next, these two beings would fight and defend Helm's Deep to their dying breaths.

Ardeth only hoped it didn't come to that.

. . .

Aragorn's foster father, Elrond of Imladris, had the gift. . .or the curse. . .of foresight. As the ranger fought his way through the Uruk-hai, he had to wonder if what he just 'saw' was foresight, or merely his worst nightmare come to life. He was still reeling from that 'vision,' and dearly hoped what was shown to him in that vision was averted. Even so, Aragorn's thrusts and slashes had more venom to them than usual.

For even as he fought like a madman, he was seeing something else in his head. The Uruk-hai raising his axe high over his head and burying it in Haldir's back. In his vision, Aragorn saw the elf fall and the ranger screamed his name. There was no way Aragorn could reach the MarchWarden in time. Even as he raced up the steps, Haldir was falling to his knees, then slumping to the ground.

Aragorn caught him before his head hit the ground and held him in his arms. The elf was staring at him, eyes glazed. . .and there was no hope. Ironic, since Aragorn's Elven name was 'Estel,' or 'hope.' But here, in this horrifying vision of what could have been, there was no hope. Aragorn gently placed one dirty, bloody hand against Haldir's chest and his blond hair, lowering him tenderly to the ground. He looked around, saw the dead elves, and then. . .

Here he was. Yet, even as he fought, he could see Haldir guiding Ardeth inside the Keep. Ardeth, who saved Haldir's life, just by being there. Aragorn saw Ardeth slip in the mud, saw it throw his balance off. That imbalance, that inexperience with rain and mud, saved Haldir's life. But Aragorn had to work quickly, if he wished Ardeth and Haldir to get away safely. He trusted the Man and the Elf to see to each other.

And in the meantime, he had Uruk-hai to slay. With grim determination, Aragorn fought his way back up to the steps, killing any orc or Uruk-hai who was foolish enough to cross his path. Other defenders of Helm's Deep were ahead of him, and Aragorn nodded. Yes, he would bring up the rear. At the beginning of this journey, he swore to Frodo to protect him with his life or death. These men warranted the same vow.

The Ranger followed them to the Gate where he paused just long enough to clasp a wounded Théoden's shoulder before diving in to drive the Uruk-hai back from the Gate. He passed Ardeth and Haldir on the way in, and Ardeth was now tending to Haldir's wounded arm. They would look after each other. Theoden called, pushing off the wall, "Hold them!" Aragorn nodded his understanding.

"How long do you need?" he asked, realizing that he would need to direct attention away from the men trying to rebuild the Gate. Théoden's answer was simple. . .'as long as you can give me.' Simple answer. Not so simple to do. However, Aragorn had an idea. He nodded his agreement, then sought out Gimli. He found his dwarf friend among those battling the Uruk-hai and nudged him out a door that led outside, directly opposite the Gate.

Outside that door was a ledge. . .or maybe it would be more appropriate to call it a 'ledge.' Gimli followed him, and Aragorn peeked around the side, mentally calculating how many Uruk-hai there were. . .and how long of a jump it was. He slipped back, trying to decide the best way to get himself and Gimli across without tossing the dwarf like a sack of potatoes. The dwarf in question prodded, "Oh, c'mon, we can take 'em!"

Aragorn glanced down at his companion, answering in a low voice, "It's a long way." At least the distance between the two shards of bridge in Moria. Gimli looked around Aragorn, and the ranger pressed himself more firmly against the rock to allow the dwarf a good look at what they faced. It wasn't the Uruk-hai that would concern Gimli. There was an audible gulp, then Gimli slipped back.

"Toss me," he said, reluctance obvious in his voice. Aragorn blinked, staring down at his friend in flat-out amazement. He heard a '_what_?' pass his lips, without realizing he spoke aloud. Even so, he was sure he could be forgiven, under the circumstances. This was, after all, the same warrior who informed him in Moria that 'Nobody tosses a dwarf,' before leaping across to safety. Gimli huffed and repeated, "I canna jump the distance, you'll have to toss me!"

Aragorn nodded slowly, still having a hard time believing what he was hearing. He shifted, to get a better grip on Gimli, but the dwarf turned to look up at him with a pleading expression, begging, "Ahhhh. . .don't tell the elf?!?" Aragorn barely suppressed a smile. Gimli and Legolas came a long way, since their less than stellar first meeting, but still, there was that rivalry between the dwarf and elf, and ever it would be there.

"Not a word," he promised, then hurtled Gimli across the chasm to the other side. Gimli landed with a war cry, and Aragorn made his own jump seconds later with his own war cry. They immediately snapped into combat, back to back. As Aragorn planned, they distracted the Uruk-hai from the men rebuilding the Gate. Still fighting back to back, Aragorn and Gimli turned in a circle, thinning out the ranks of the Uruk-hai.

As he turned away from the fortress, Aragorn could hear the shouts of the Rohirrim as they shored up the Gate. Once more, Theoden called out to them, this time instructing, "Gimli! Aragorn! Get out of there!"

Aragorn saw the king's face through an open slat, and a moment later, that too was closed. There was no way out. The Gate was shut, they could not leap back. Aragorn felt a moment of fear, remembering the archives found by Gandalf in Balin's Tomb. '_We cannot get out_.' But it wouldn't end like that for them. It. . . Aragorn felt himself grabbed from behind by an Uruk, and he fought back immediately. He wasn't the only one. . .Gimli was also seized.

Above him, the ranger could hear his best friend cry out his name and Aragorn drove his elbow back, forcing the Uruk to release him. Gimli fought his way free as well, and a rope was thrown to them. Aragorn grabbed the rope with one hand and pulled Gimli to his side with the other. Gimli, for his own part, held on tightly as Legolas pulled them to safety, hand over hand.

Aragorn glanced at the Uruk-hai below them, and the ones now surrounding them on either side as once more the ladders were propelled through the air to rest against the side of the fortress. Gimli choked out something and concerned, Aragorn looked up at the Elves pulling the rope. . . several elves and one man. Ardeth. And there, right behind Legolas and Ardeth was Haldir. He thanked the Lorien elf with a glance for taking care of Ardeth, as he asked.

The MarchWarden only smiled, then Aragorn and Gimli were being pulled over the side, willing and strong arms tugging at them. It was then that the call for retreat went up. The castle was breached. . .everything Gimli and Aragorn risked in the last few minutes was for nothing. But Aragorn did not allow himself to think about that. Instead, he turned his attention to the evacuation. There were still some who could be saved.

"Hurry! Inside, get them inside!" he cried out, first in Elvish, then in Westron. Haldir and what remained of his group began herding the defenders of Helm's Deep inside, while Gimli tugged on Ardeth's wrist, drawing the young man into the keep. Aragorn was astonished, though perhaps he shouldn't have been. Sometime during the last few days, Gimli's initial mistrust of Ardeth gave way to the fierce protectiveness Gimli demonstrated toward the entire Fellowship.

Over the din of battle, he heard Gimli urging, "C'mon, laddie, inside. You have done your part, and then some. C'mon, you saved our lives, now it's my turn. Still haven't thanked ye properly for bringing Aragorn back to us." The aforementioned ranger smiled to himself as he directed the defenders inside. Legolas and the archers were buying as much time as they could, but the Uruks kept coming.

Unexpectedly, Haldir was at his side, murmuring, "There was no way I could have kept young Ardeth out of harm's way for much longer, mellon nin. He is a most stubborn man, though if he has been leading his people since he was seventeen, perhaps it was necessary." Indeed. Aragorn looked at Haldir's bound arm, and the elf continued, "It pains me some, but once I finished with his injuries, Ardeth bound up my wound."

Surprised by this statement, Aragorn raised an eyebrow at the MarchWarden, who explained, "Indeed. It seems that our new ally has some training in taking care of wounds. He would say naught when I asked him about it, but if he is a warrior, perhaps the training he received was found on the battlefield."

"This battle is not yet done," Aragorn warned, and Haldir merely nodded. There was a determined light in his eyes. He knew what cost there was to the elves of Lorien. . .perhaps even the elves of Rivendell. He would not tell Haldir that he could not fight. . .to do so would be an insult to the MarchWarden. Satisfied that they understood each other, Aragorn fell silent and continued the retreat deeper into the castle.

. . .

As they approached Isengard, Treebeard was telling Merry and Pippin about a family of mice that would climb up and tickle him. However, as they entered the patch of land surrounding Orthanc, Treebeard fell silent with shock and horror. Pippin guessed some of it, but even he was shocked by what he saw. What he heard was far more accurate than he could have ever believed. The trees were all gone.

At last, Treebeard lamented, "Many of these trees were my friends! Creatures I had known from nut and acorn!" Pippin didn't speak at first. When he came up with the idea of showing Isengard to Treebeard, he never really thought past Treebeard seeing Saruman's treachery for himself. Pippin didn't know if Ents had hearts, but if they did, Treebeard's heart was obviously broken at the sight.

Quietly, Pippin told the Ent, "I'm sorry, Treebeard." He meant it. He was genuinely sorry for the loss of these trees, for Treebeard's friends. But he wasn't sorry, he realized after a moment, for anything else. He did not do this terrible deed. He directed Treebeard's attention to it, but he was not responsible for it. And in any case, it didn't seem like the Ent was in any mood to cast blame at anyone. . .save one person.

Treebeard seemed not to hear, as he lamented, "They had voices of their own. Why did we not hear them cry out? Why did we not know they were in danger?" Pippin had no answer for that question. And his cousin. . . Well, Merry was still obviously stunned by the destruction they witnessed. He could not say anything. The same was not true of the Ent. The hatred in his voice was hard to mistake as Treebeard all but snarled, "Saruman! A wizard should know better! A wizard does know better!"

Still, Pippin said nothing. There was nothing to say. The Ent gave a cry of fury and grief, and for the first time since Gandalf left the hobbits with Treebeard, Pippin actually feared Treebeard. The Ent, however, was not concerned with either of the halflings as he vented, "There are no words in Elvish, Entish, or the tongues of men for this treachery! My business is with Isengard tonight, with rock and stone." There was a grim determination in Treebeard's rough voice that reminded Pippin of Aragorn.

Around them, the forest moved and stirred, and Pippin realized it was a call to arms, that cry of grief and rage. Trees. . .Ents. . .stalked out of the Forest, looking around in stunned disbelief. If they looked surprised when Merry challenged them earlier, demanding to know if they were part of this world or not, they looked utterly shocked now. The tweenager had no understanding of Entish, but he was fairly certain communication of what lay around Orthanc was being sent to the other Ents of the Forest.

He wasn't the only one who noticed. Merry straightened up, hissing out, "YESSSS!" He exchanged a quick look with Pippin, who saw that same grim determination in his cousin's eyes. They had their alliance. After all of Merry's words, it took actually seeing what Saruman could and would do for that alliance to be made. But there was no resentment in Merry's expression. Only a grim pleasure and relief that they were no longer alone in this.

"Hoom, hoom! Come, my friends, the Ents are going to war. It is likely that we go to our doom. . .the last march of the Ents," Treebeard commanded. Pippin, and Merry in that lower branch, gripped the tree-herder's branches a little more strongly, as the Ents moved forward. They were a slow-moving, implacable force, moving toward Isengard. And Pippin knew that Saruman was totally unaware of what was about to hit him. So much the better, the young hobbit thought, you can consider this payback for Boromir!

An image of the man as he last saw him exploded in Pippin's mind, and he gasped a little. His body pierced with arrows, his blond hair soaked with sweat and his pale eyes glazing over with pain, grief, and despair. Pippin swallowed hard. Yes. Yes, this was the hour when he and Merry would avenge Boromir. And Ardeth, and Gandalf, and Frodo, and anyone else whom Saruman harmed!

As the Ents converged on Orthanc, they got the attention of Saruman's minions by throwing a huge boulder into the compound. The boulder promptly crushed several orcs, but the Ents were only just getting started. They began attacking in earnest. . .and Ents had some very creative ways of killing orcs, Pippin realized during the next few hours. Very creative ways, indeed. He was certainly glad they were on his side!

During the next few moments, orcs were stomped, kicked, tossed and otherwise crushed. Sometimes by Entfeet, sometimes by rocks and boulders, or even by falling structures pulled over by the Ents. Some were tossed into gaping wound in the ground from whence the Uruk-hai were birthed. Still others were unfortunate enough to be captured by an Ent, one in each hand, then their heads were smashed together.

Fortunately, Pippin saw a little of that. Much as he hated orcs, he could happily live the rest of his life without seeing what passed for orc brains. There were too many other things to see, too many other targets to strike, too much else work to be done. And the Ents were not without casualties. Some were pulled down by orcs, using rope. . .with the Ent down, the orcs began hacking away at it with their axes. At least one orc was picked off the body of the Ent with the Ent's free hand. Treebeard came to the rescue, throwing yet another boulder and knocking the remaining orcs away from his fallen friend.

It was from these boulders that Treebeard provided ammunition for Merry and Pippin. The cousins were no longer merely spectators. Instead, they began throwing hobbit-sized rocks at the orcs. As their hard missiles found their targets, Merry and Pippin would shout out, "YES!" Pippin glanced toward Orthanc, to see if the other Ents were attacking it. Not yet. But the chaos and cacophony from the compound drew Saruman's attention.

Pippin couldn't see the look on his face, but that wasn't important. What was important was that the wizard was watching. He turned his attention back to his rocks, thinking briefly about skipping stones at Moria. . .and the Watcher. This time, he was sure Aragorn wouldn't mind if he threw stones. . .indeed, he was quite certain that if Aragorn saw them, he would be smiling. Perhaps even providing stones for him and Merry to throw?

The tweenager threw one of his rocks at an orc who was stupid enough to be standing next to the crater in the ground. The stone hit its target, and the impact knocked the orc into the birthing chamber for the Uruk-hai. Treebeard exclaimed, seeing the orc's tumble into the crater, "A hit! A fine hit!" Pippin merely smiled, thinking, _that was for you, Frodo_. _No. No, **that **was for Frodo._

He thought that as he once more glanced at Orthanc, which was now coming under fire from the Ents with boulders. He smiled again. Yes. That was for Frodo. That last hit. . .that was for Ardeth and the way they hurt him. However, his smile froze as he saw that Orthanc wasn't the only thing under fire. . .so was an Ent. Literally. Some of the orcs shot flaming arrows into the Ent's leaves.

Treebeard boomed out, "Break the dam! Release the river!" Pippin's eyes widened. Could they do that? Evidently so. . .because it was done. In fact, it took very little effort on the part of the Ents to destroy the dam. The long-suppressed river was unleashed and started its fall onto Orthanc. Pippin began to see why the Ents held back so long. When they were of a mind to do so, they could cause amazing damage. . .terrible damage. Or perhaps they were simply putting things to rights. Even so, the tweenager gulped and held on for dear life as the water swept across Isengard.

He once more glanced back at Orthanc, at Saruman, who was rushing from one part of his tower to another, as if seeking a new viewpoint. Maybe he thought he would see a better outcome as he scurried from one part of the tower balcony to another. Pippin didn't understand the wizard. He never thought he could lose. Yet, when they set out from Rivendell, Pippin sensed that Aragorn and Gandalf were uncertain about what came next. He didn't understand then. But he grew to understand.

In Rivendell, he and Merry were determined not to be left behind. They came with Sam, Frodo, and Strider to Rivendell. They would not be left behind. Frodo was family, and family stuck by family. And. . . Merry's cry of alarm distracted the young Hobbit. His cousin warned, "Pippin! Hold on!" Pippin saw the water rushing toward them, and tightened his grip further on Treebeard's branches. A glance at Merry told him that the other Hobbit was doing the same thing on his own branch. Pippin swallowed hard, staring at the rushing water.

Treebeard hoomed his own warning to his passengers, adding, "Hold on, little hobbits!" Yes, that was exactly what they were doing. However, Treebeard stood firm as the water rushed around them, into the Uruk crater, rushing over the plain. The Ent that was on fire doused the flames in the rushing water. It seemed to Pippin as he looked around at the devastated plain, that the water cleansed Isengard of Saruman's evil.

Or, at the very least. . .it made a beginning. Now new trees could grow here. They could never replace the trees whose voices were lost. But for now, Saruman's ability to make mischief was halted. Pippin only hoped the rest of their friends were all right. Perhaps it was a good thing he didn't know the fates of Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli. Or Frodo and Sam. His part in this particular story was done.

At least, that was what he thought. Fate, however, had other plans for Peregrin Took. Fate, or his own curiosity. . .but it was a fine line between the two at times.

. . .

As the Ents were preparing to storm the castle, so to speak, the defenders of Helm's Deep were struggling to make it to dawn. Inside the Keep, Théoden's men were bolstering the door, even as the Uruk-hai attempted to gain entrance. Ardeth and Haldir helped to separate out the remaining men (and boys) who could fight from the wounded and the dying. After they finished that task, the pair joined the attempts to shore up the door.

As Ardeth and Haldir both leaned against the door, adding whatever strength they had in their body, Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli were adding whatever support they could to the efforts. Aragorn had not yet given up, Ardeth could tell. He could see it in Aragorn's eyes. The older man smiled at him, clasping his shoulder as he placed a heavy block of wood against the door, then turned as Theoden said in a dull voice, "The Fortress is taken. It is over."

Anger flashed in Aragorn's gray eyes as he turned away from the door and stalked back to the pile of wood. Pain ricocheted through Ardeth's body at yet another hit through the door. Haldir murmured, "A battering ram. You saw those earlier." Ardeth nodded. He looked at the elf. Haldir was pale, but looked as determined as Ardeth felt and Aragorn looked. Haldir smiled faintly, adding, "Many of my brethren fell in battle. I will not dishonor them by giving up."

That was almost exactly what Aragorn said, snapping at Theoden as he picked up another piece of wood and carried it to the door, "You said this fortress would never fall while your men defend it! They still defend it! They died defending it!" His words were punctuated by yet another blow from the Uruk-hai battering ram, and Ardeth lost ground. However, Haldir threw his body right back against the door, and from him, Ardeth gained the strength he needed.

Aragorn asked the king and his aide Gamling, "Is there no other way for the women and children to get out of the caves?" Theoden was staring at nothing in particular. As _O'Connell would say_, Ardeth reflected, _Theoden has gone bye-bye_. He firmly told himself to concentrate on the matter at hand, but that was harder than it sounded. With each rush against the door, it grew harder and harder for Ardeth to remain upright. He was running out of time. Aragorn repeated, "Is there no other way?"

At last, Gamling answered somewhat hesitantly, "There is one passage leading into the mountains. But they will not get far. The Uruk-hai are too many." Ardeth looked at Aragorn, understanding where the other man was going with this. Even if Helm's Deep fell, the defenders could still buy time for the women and children in the caves. He wondered how Eowyn was, if she was understanding yet why she was needed there.

Aragorn told Gamling, putting his hand on the aide's shoulder, "Send word to the women and children to make for the mountain pass, and barricade the entrance." Gamling nodded, a look of relief crossing his face. Ardeth saw that expression before. Usually on the face of a young Med-jai who received a temporary battlefield promotion after his commander fell and a new commander arrived.

The aide started to head in that direction, but Theoden said in a lost voice, "So much death." All turned to look at him, except Haldir, who kept his body against the door and reached out a hand to steady Ardeth. The Med-jai looked at Haldir, saw his resolute expression, and smiled faintly. The smile died as Theoden asked no one in particular, "What can men do against such reckless hate?"

Aragorn grew still. . .he was thinking about something. Ardeth was willing to bet he knew what that something was, but he would keep silent. For now. After a moment, Aragorn said softly, "Ride out with me. Ride out and meet them." 'Them,' of course, was the Uruk-hai, and Ardeth nodded quietly. It was a sound strategy. Take the fight to the enemy, draw them away from the women and children.

Theoden, however, didn't see it that way. He stared at Aragorn with something like contempt in his eyes, asking, "For death and glory?" Ardeth actually rolled his eyes. Theoden either didn't realize that Aragorn was not some young hothead. . .or didn't want to admit it. Haldir's expression should similar exasperation. Doubtless, as a protector of his realm, Haldir saw the sense in Aragorn's suggestion. The elf muttered something that sounded like '_ay, elbereth_,' but Ardeth had no idea what that meant. He suspected it was a curse (or the reverse, a prayer), but he decided not to ask.

And yet, despite the obvious annoyance of the members of this new alliance, Aragorn showed neither exasperation nor impatience with Theoden, replying as the two men walked toward each other, "For Rohan. . .for your people." Ardeth looked toward the pair again, and saw the surprise in Théoden's expression. He would have laughed, but he didn't think anyone else would get the joke. And in addition, the jolts from the battering ram were sending spasms of pain through Ardeth's body. He didn't feel much like laughing at the moment.

Into the silence, Gimli said quietly, with a touch of reverence, "The sun is rising." Ardeth remembered his words at the beginning of the battle, as they stood on the Wall. Gimli's muttered response to Legolas assuring Aragorn that his friends were with him, '_let's hope they last the night_.' Then he saw Aragorn's expression as the first rays of the early morning sun fell into the hall.

Ardeth realized that Aragorn was not thinking about that at all. . .he was remembering the stables, right before Gandalf rode from Edoras in search of Eowyn's brother Eomer and his Rohirrim. He closed his eyes, recalling the words, for he was there at Aragorn's side, "Look for my coming at sunrise on the fifth day. At dawn, look to the east." It was the morning of the fifth day. Aragorn's eyes met Ardeth's, and they both knew.

"Yes." This came from Theoden. It was a bit hesitant at first, then he repeated, sounding more determined, "Yes!" Haldir pulled Ardeth away from the door, and Legolas came over to support the Med-jai, who was finding it more and more difficult to stand upright. Théoden's voice was strong as he continued, "The Horn of Helm Hammerhand shall sound in the Deep, one last time!"

This time, it was Gimli who exclaimed, "YES!" With that, the dwarf left the chambers. Ardeth hoped he was traveling up to the tower where the aforementioned Horn was kept. When they took their places earlier, Aragorn pointed out the Horn in question to him. When Ardeth asked him how he knew about it, Aragorn acknowledged that he served Théoden's father, Thengel, many decades earlier.

Thengel's son said now, putting his hand on Aragorn's shoulder, "Let this be the hour we draw swords together." Aragorn inclined his head, a faint smile appearing. Theoden turned toward Legolas and Ardeth, adding, "I dislike asking a wounded man to ride. . .but it would be my honor, Ardeth of the Med-jai, to fight and ride alongside you once more. Will you ride with us?" Aragorn was already looking as if he might protest.

"In truth, King Theoden, I would not last much longer on my feet," Ardeth answered with a wry grin. Theoden nodded his understanding and acceptance. The young man continued, his smile broadening, "It is a good thing, then, I think, that one rides a horse while in a seated position." What else could he say to an apology from a proud man such as Theoden? He looked at Haldir and Legolas, adding, "However, I may require aid getting into the saddle."

"You shall have it, mellon nin," Legolas answered with a broad smile. Aragorn just looked at Ardeth. . .and the young Med-jai was shocked to see pride there. Aragorn was proud of him. Not knowing what else to do, Ardeth dipped his head in acknowledgment. When he raised his head once more, Aragorn was smiling broadly at him. Legolas added, "Let us finish this, then!" Yes, it was time to draw this battle to a close.


	17. Last Play of the Game

I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack! Please forgive me. . .Ardeth and Celia decided to take an extended holiday. I think Ardeth was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. This chapter will be a little shorter, as I wanted to put the confrontation with Saruman in the next chapter, when Ardeth goes home. I will have a special surprise at the end of this chapter, which sets up the next story in this particular series. Once I get a chance to work on that (pointed look at Ian Howe, Alec Trevelyan, Boromir, Faramir, Luke, Odysseus of Ithaca. . .)

Reviews!

Ashti: Well, we are one step closer to the end of the story. (laughs) No need to feel like a little kid. I'm glad you've enjoyed it so much. The more I wrote, the more I realized that Ardeth had similarities to more than one character in LOTR. However, while it was tempting to carry this into _Return of the King_. . .it was time to send Ardeth home.

Elias: Thank you, I'm very glad you've enjoyed it. I hope it won't take so long to get the next story out, but I can't make any promises (another pointed look at the muses in question.)

Mommints: Uhm, no, I think that this was the first review you left for this chapter. You probably already realize this, but Rameses (and by extension, Ardeth) is the reincarnation of Denethor. He's feeling quite guilty about what Denethor did to his younger son. For obvious reasons, Ardeth will never remember that particular past. He has enough burdens to carry. As for Haldir. . .there was NO way I would let him die. In any of my stories. And Ardeth saving him. . .hey, one of my favorite boys saving another of my favorite boys. It really doesn't get any better than that!

Terreis: Spooty, spooty, spooty. . .hope the computer isn't being spooty when you get a chance to review CITGA, HBIC, SG, and this. You are **most** welcome. . .saving Haldir was at the top of my list of things to do with this story (aside from seeing Aragorn and Ardeth interact). Yes, I had it planned all along, even before I met Craig Parker. Meeting that adorable young man (hey, I'm older than he is, I'm allowed to say that) just made me happier I saved Haldir. (giggles) You know, that Theoden line has gotten a lot of laughs. . .even more than I anticipated. How do I keep all the twists and turns straight? Kinda of the way I get ideas. Now, keeping characters straight. . .that can be a problem. I've almost written Rowanne when I meant Jocelyn, and almost written Jocelyn when I meant Rowanne. EEP! Just be grateful that Cowboy has remained blessedly silent so far. (shudders) That's the last thing I need, yet another Sean Bean character in my head!

Linda: You are very welcome. . .after seeing TTT, saving Haldir was very, very important to me. I _hated_ it when he died. If I could have saved Boromir as well, I would have, since I bawl just listening to _Amon Hen_ on the FOTR soundtrack. However, I have other plans for our golden-haired Gondorian. (evil cackle) Please forgive me for the lateness of this update. (glares once more at the recalcitrant muses)

LalaithCat: A semi-cliff hangar for this chapter as well. . .though you sort of know what's coming. Yes, I saved Haldir. . .probably one of my most popular decisions, though there was no way I could let him die. No way in the world. The whole bit with mud just appeared in my head. . .it was the perfect plot device, while avoiding deux ex machina (Not that DEM is a bad thing, but I prefer to keep it in the _James Bond_ fandom, where it belongs)

Kit: Yep, Haldir survived this time. . .I'm sorry about the long wait (Ian: Don't glare at us again, it's not our fault Ardeth took a vacation!) I don't think the next chapter will be such a long wait. I hope not, at least.

Sailor Elf: Yes, Haldir is a _very_ good Elf. . .and a very good Muse. (grins broadly)

Okay, gang. . .second to last chapter. Next time, Gandalf and Ardeth confront Saruman (with backup) and Saruman finds out why it's a bad thing, ticking off Anck-su-namun.

A Med-jai in Middle Earth

Part Sixteen

Last Play of the Game

All was coming to an end, as all things must. Rameses was distracted. . .still watching over his long-ago son. Seti stared at his oldest child compassionately, and then quietly took his leave of the grieving father/son. He hoped the day would come when Rameses would accept that he was not responsible for what Denethor did to his youngest son. But he would not hold his breath. Rameses never found it easy to forgive himself.

He closed his eyes and went to Arwen and Celia. They knew why he was there, before he said a word. Seti could see it in their eyes. Even so, he said quietly, "It is time for you to return to your father, Evenstar. But know this. There is no ship to bear you to Valinor now. When you awaken in Middle-earth once more, it will be as a mortal woman. The choice you have made. Are you ready?"

"I am," Arwen Undomiel answered quietly. She turned to face Celia more fully, putting her hands on the young queen's shoulders, and smiled at her. Arwen said softly, "I have been very glad to know you during this short time, Celia of the Med-jai. And I will carry your kindness in my heart for all time. Should you ever require my aid, you have but to come here and call upon me. I will hear you, my sister."

Seti found himself holding his breath, for who could top such a parting as that? His daughter-in-law, wise child that she was,didn't try. Instead, Celia returned the smile, putting her hands over Arwen's. She said in answer, "I will remember your kindness as well, Arwen Undomiel. I hope you and Aragorn are happy together. Because I can tell you this. . .if my husband has sworn himself to Aragorn's safety, then there is no person in Middle-earth better protected than your betrothed. Be well, sister." Arwen smiled and drew the smaller woman into a brief, fierce hug.

Seti didn't want to disturb the two. Really, he didn't. They clearly found solace in each other, and solace was just as clearly what each woman needed. Er. . .well, Arwen was **almost** a Woman. And it proved to be unnecessary, for Arwen and Celia released each other. They smiled at each other a bit weakly, then Celia began to fade. Arwen whispered, "Will she be safe the next time she returns here?"

"She will," Seti affirmed, "for even if Saruman lives, he cannot hurt her. Anck-su-namun loves her dearly, and like me, she is not constrained by the bounds of flesh." Arwen nodded, and Seti added, "Tis time for you to return, Arwen. You and your father have a few more things to settle, I think. And my son needs me." He knew that Gandalf the White wouldarrive shortly at Helm's Deep with the Rohirrim.

Arwen nodded, then asked quietly, "Seti? Rameses mentioned that he has two incarnations in this time, in my time. Ardeth is one." Seti nodded, sensing what she was about to say. He was proven right a moment later, when Arwen continued, "And the other is Denethor, son of Ecthelion, father of Boromir and Faramir." Again, Seti nodded and Arwen said, "I thought as much. He knows far too much to be anyone else, save Faramir."

"Indeed," Seti replied heavily. Arwen inclined her head to him, and then quietly faded from this plane. She would awaken in her own time, in scant moments. She would awaken as a Woman, rather than an Elf. And if dear Aragorn didn't move quickly, she would shortly thereafter die as a Woman. The evil one, Sauron, was slowly killing her, though she knew it not. At least, not yet.

He ached for her. But in the end, he respected Arwen entirely too much to change events, much less her mind. In addition, he was concerned about Arwen knowing that Rameses was Denethor reborn. It was bad enough that such memories still pained his son. Indeed, it truly rankled with him, that Rameses remembered such things. He wondered to this day if regaining Denethor's memories served to further shatter his son's reason. If he was correct, and Khaldun was responsible, then there would be consequences. Never mind that Khaldun was dead. So was Seti. It was not permitted to attack Seti's family. Not Rameses. . .and not even Faramir.

His eyes drifted to the red-haired young man who was even now defending Osgiliath with such ferocity. Tiyu, Faramir was, in a manner of speaking, his grandson. Another grandson, and Seti smiled to think of it. Suleiman was, of course, the reincarnation of Aragorn, as well as the reincarnation of Seti's grandson Ardeth. He supposed the gods had a sense of irony. . .the son of Ecthelion being reborn first as Rameses, then as Ardeth.

Seti knew that much of Denethor's treatment of his younger son was rooted in his treatment at the hands of his own father. Seti saw the entire sequence of events play out, between Denethor, Faramir, and Gandalf the White. Gandalf's words were truly spoken, '_your father loves you, Faramir. He will remember it, 'ere the end_.' Denethor did love Faramir. He simply couldn't comprehend his youngest. And because of that, he found the boy lacking. It was for that reason Seti was grateful not only to Boromir, who raised his younger brother, but to Aragorn, who became father and older brother to Faramir after the end of the War.

Denethor was reincarnated as Seti's son, so Seti knew Denethor wasn't a bad man. Perhaps a man who didn't know how a loving father behaved. He needed to learn. Thus, the reincarnation of Aragorn was a father to the reincarnation of Denethor. _Fitting_, he thought. Aragorn, whatever else he was, was a loving father. The same was true of Suleiman. The same was true of Ardeth Bey. . . both the original and the current.

Arwen was even now awakening. Seti smiled at her sadly. She would die, as Elrond foretold. After Aragorn's death, she would linger in darkness and doubt. . .again, as her father foretold. But. . .she would have met a far worse fate, had she sailed for the Undying Lands. Her body would have remained. But her heart and soul would have died. Not a fate for one so radiant as Arwen, rightly called the Evenstar. No. Not a fate for one such as her at all.

With that, Seti silently wished her well, and then relocated to Helm's Deep. The final act (at least for his son) had begun.

* * *

In 2001, Celia Bey awoke to find Anck-su-namun at her side. The ghost smiled at her dearest friend, whispering, "It is good to see you awake. Tis even better to find you safe, my forever friend." Celia smiled back sleepily, rubbing her hand back and forth across her eyes. She sat up, mindful of the small bodies curled up close to her own. Anck asked, her eyes filled with tenderness, "Do you feel better?" 

"I do. I slept well. . .and I believe I owe all of you an apology," Celia replied. Anck immediately began shaking her head, but Celia continued, "I do! Sister, I should have listened to you long ago. I needed the rest. It was only. . .I think a part of me knew that I was more vulnerable in my sleep. I should have trusted in my other father. He found a companion who would. . .who _could_. . .look after me there, and ease my fears."

"Will you tell me?" Anck asked and Celia smiled at her again. She did feel much better, much stronger. She nodded, easing Miranda onto the pillows more comfortably. The little girl whimpered in her sleep and snuggled closer into her mother's side. Celia caressed her daughter's dark hair, now seeing her little girl through the eyes of Arwen. She prayed that she would never take her child for granted, remembering how Arwen questioned her about her little ones. On her other side, Andreas snuffled a little in his sleep.

She was blessed. There were no other words. She had her beautiful children, and she had her beautiful husband. Aragorn would look after the people of Helm's Deep, Ardeth would look after Aragorn, and Seti would look after Ardeth.

She had to have faith in Seti, because he loved Ardeth just as much as she did. Celia looked back up at Anck, saying softly, "I am not entirely sure where to start, my friend. On the other hand, I need only to look to my life to realize you would believe me. My companion was a woman of that time. Excuse me. . .an Elven Lady. Her name is Arwen, and her beloved was one of Ardeth's companions at that fortress, Helm's Deep."

"An elf?" Anck asked, her eyes wide with astonishment. Celia nodded, grinning like a little kid. It took the ghost only seconds to process that, then she demanded, "Tell me more, silly girl! Of what did you speak, tell me about her! Was she beautiful, was she kind? Never mind that last question. . . of course she was kind. You would have little use for her if she was not kind. But tell me more!"

"But of course, my dear friend," Celia answered agreeably, drawing her legs up to her chest. Anck had no corporeal body, but it was a habit Celia had, for Anck liked to sit on her bed while they talked. As expected, the concubine sat at the foot of the bed, and Celia continued, "She was beautiful. Amazingly beautiful. She had long black hair and extraordinary blue eyes. And indeed, she was kind."

She collected her thoughts, continuing, "It may be that she is an ancestress, for I learned that her time is some thirty thousand years before our own. We'll keep that between us, Anck, at least for the moment. I'm not sure if Evy's ready to learn just how long civilization has been around." Anck nodded her agreement, and Celia continued, "I do know that her beloved, Aragorn, is a previous incarnation of Ardath's son. . .and Suleiman Bey."

Anck's jaw dropped as she stared at Celia. Oh, good, someone else was stunned by that particular bombshell! Celia gave a low giggle of delight at Anck's expression, then continued, "Knowing the way this family is about reincarnations and ancestral lines, it would surprise me little if she and Aragorn are either ancestors to Rameses or Ardath. Given Arwen's coloring, I would bet money on Ardath, though."

"Tiyu. And you are speaking like Ardath. . .it must be the influence of this Arwen," Anck pointed out. Celia shrugged. Evy often told her that her English became more formal and proper when Evy and Rick were away from Med-jai lands for long periods of time. Of course, it only took one visit from Rick, or Galen for that matter, and Celia's American accent would come roaring back. Right along with her colloquialisms.

Instead of answering her friend's comment, the Med-jai queen continued, "In any event, I told her about being married and being a mother. I told her about my various previous incarnations. Not just Thalia and Ardath, but Carlotta." Now Anck looked confused, and a little bit hurt. It didn't take a genius to figure out why. Celia added softly, "You would never let me get close to you, Anck. I think you were afraid I would die again."

The ghost averted her eyes, murmuring, "I remember those lives not. While I was in Meela's body, her memories and my own dominated. I think there was not enough room in our body, shared as it was, for any other memories. For any other lives. I am sorry, my friend."

"There is no need. We are together now. And perhaps, if the gods are truly kind, you and I will be reborn into our next lives together. . .again. Perhaps this time, the magic circle can remain intact," Celia answered. Anck looked back at that, a smile playing about her lips. Encouraged, Celia continued, "What else do you wish to know about Arwen? Or perhaps you would like to know about her time?"

Anck needed no further prompting. She nodded eagerly, her dark eyes lighting up with excitement. This was a connection to Ardeth, who was not yet home. But he would be home. She could have faith in that now. Celia adjusted her position and became more comfortable. She replied, "It is our own world, and yet it is not. I cannot be certain where Arwen's home is. I believe it is somewhere in modern-day Europe. Perhaps Switzerland, I cannot be sure."

"It matters not. Ardeth. . .he is safe? Or at least, not further injured?" Anck asked anxiously. Celia smiled at her friend. So different! So very different from the Anck who believed that Ardeth would fail her, would betray her. Anck changed and grew, just in the time that Celia knew her. Perhaps she remained stuck in time, in when she lost Ardath, then Imhotep. Celia didn't know, wasn't sure. She was just glad they were back together now.

"He has not been further injured. Seti is looking after him, as is Rameses, when he can. Rameses, however, is limited. Two of his incarnations are there, both past and present. I know that his reincarnation, namely Ardeth is there, but it seems that he also lived in that time period. He wouldn't specify whom that would be, but I have my suspicions. In any event, I've been reassured that he will be home relatively soon. Ardeth will, I mean," Celia replied.

She had her suspicions, and she knew Arwen had her own. She also knew that if she was correct, she didn't want Ardeth remembering that life. Remembering Rameses was bad enough. If she was correct. . .if she was correct, he was either Denethor of Gondor, or Denethor's youngest son Faramir. Either way, he would have horrifying memories. She shuddered when she thought about Rameses telling her what Denethor tried to do to his son.

The door flew open, and Evy exclaimed in a stage-whisper, "You're awake! Thank God, I've been so worried about you!" Anck rolled her eyes, and Celia just laughed softly. They wouldn't be the women she loved so much if they didn't spar and act annoyed with each other. Evy glared back at Anck-su-namun, adding, "Well, I was! Are you all right? Did you have any nightmares this time? Did that horrible man come back?"

"In the order you asked them," Celia replied, still laughing, "I'm fine. . .no, I had no further nightmares. . .and no, Saruman left me alone. Seti found a companion for me, while I was there, and she kept me company as well as protecting me. In answer to the questions you haven't asked yet. . . Ardeth is fine. Well, not fine, but he hasn't been injured further. And I've been assured that he'll be home relatively soon."

Evy's jaw dropped and Anck said in a pseudo-sweet voice, "She does know you rather well, Evelyn." Evy shot the ghost a truly venomous look, and Anck continued, looking _quite_ pleased with herself, "If Ardeth will be home soon, we will have to start making plans."

Celia nodded. She was thinking about that already. She didn't know when Ardeth would be coming home, but plans did have to be made. She said quietly, "Evy, if you would help take my children to their own beds, then get Rick, we have plans to make. Anck, could you get Imhotep as well? We'll need his help. I think Seti will tell us when to expect Ardeth, but I want a plan worked out before then."

Anck nodded and concentrated. Over the years, she became much better at this, but it still took a great deal out of her. She became corporeal and picked up the still-sleeping Andreas, saying softly, "I will take the little one, since it will require less energy. You take Miranda." Evy nodded, still glaring at Anck, and scooped Miranda into her arms without even waking the little girl. The pair left the room, leaving Celia to turn ideas over in her head.

* * *

The horses were led into the Great Hall of Helm's Deep, as Aragorn and his men prepared to ride out with what remained of Theoden's men. Against his will, Haldir of Lorien was remaining behind. However, he knew he would be of little use on a horse, given his arm injury. Besides, he was not especially experienced with horses. He and his Elves marched to Helm's Deep. . .they marched, they did not ride. 

The Med-jai who saved his life, on the other hand, spent at least half of his life in the saddle. Haldir helped Ardeth Bey onto his mount, as he promised, as Theoden chanted, "Fell deeds awake. . .now for wrath. . .now for ruin. . .and the red dawn!" As he spat out the last four words, he drew his own helmet over his face and head. At that moment, a great sound thundered, as if from the very heart of the earth.

Aragorn smiled, whispering, "The horn of Helm Hammerhand. Well done, Gimli!" The ground practically trembled under Haldir's feet, though the Elf couldn't be sure if it was due to the horn of Helm Hammerhand or the attacking demons on the other side of the door. It mattered not. . . especially if it made things difficult for their enemies. He motioned for his archers to take up position on either side of the hall, to avoid catching their allies in the crossfire. The Uruk-hai broke through then, pushing wood and men out of their way.

"Forth Eorlingas!" Theoden bellowed, and that was the signal all on horseback awaited. They surged forward, plowing into the invaders. Haldir watched them, and on his signal, the remaining elves showered the Uruk-hai with arrows. And the Uruk-hai were not interested in them, in any case. No, their attention was on the horsemen decimating their ranks. But Haldir and his elves kept up the attack.

He owed Ardeth Bey his life. . .Ardeth Bey and mud. Haldir would not forget that, and he advanced toward the destroyed gate. Each step they took, more Uruk-hai died, and fewer Uruk-hai could menace their mortal allies. '_We are proud to fight alongside men once more_,' he told Aragorn when he arrived. And now, he knew he spoke the truth. During the hours of the siege, he saw acts of heroism that would have taken his breath away, if there was time to marvel.

He was witnessing one such act. How could so few prevail against so many? But Haldir heard Aragorn's words, and saw the hope in Ardeth's eyes. Dawn meant something. . .the rising of the sun meant something to his allies this night. Aragorn was a seasoned warrior, as was Ardeth. Neither wereinclined to false hope. Men of such gallantry could not believe in false hope, and that was exactly what both Aragorn and Ardeth were.

Men of breathtaking gallantry and bravery. It couldwell be the Last Ride of the Rohirrim. But now, at the end, Theoden-King finally comprehended. . .Aragorn, son of Arathorn, was no callow boy, seeking glory. Now, he saw the truth. As Haldir and his elves ventured out into the early morning sunlight, guarding the backs of their mortal fellows, he saw exactly what that something was. A figure on the mountainside. At first, he thought the brightness surrounding that figure was sunlight. . .

And then, he saw Aragorn look to the east. . .as if he was expecting someone. Someone. Someone he knew, someone whom he trusted. Haldir continued to observe the figure on the mountain, even as he kept firing arrows into the Uruk-hai below. The figure was no longer alone. There was an entire army with him. Reinforcements. The day was saved. Haldir could see thousands of men. . .enough to turn the tide.

The figure started down the mountainside, the brightness intensifying. By now, the enemy had wheeled around, to face the new threat, leaving their fellows at the mercy of the Rohirrim. Haldir watched in fascination. Only a white wizard could do such a thing! It wasn't Saruman, and. . . Haldir inhaled sharply. Mithrandir. It could only be Mithrandir. He fell to the Balrog, but so did Glorfindel. Glorfindel was an Elf. . .and Mithrandir was a wizard.

He fell into shadow, and returnedas a white wizard. Haldir wanted to laugh aloud, but there was a battle yet to be fought. There was much work to be done, but the part of one would end here today. Once the battle was over, Galadriel told him, Ardeth Bey would be returned to his home. It was time for him to leave, as impressive an ally as he was. Haldir had no idea when he would see his home again. . .but he would not delay his new friend's homecoming. Not when he had people waiting for him.

Haldir gave a mighty cry, and his elves rushed forward, attacking the Uruk-hai from behind. Three layers of attack. . .Mithrandir and his army, whomever they were. . .Theoden-King and Aragorn and Ardeth. . .and Haldir and his Elves. So much pain these creatures caused him and his people. So much grief. Boromir of Gondor had fallen, a noble and proud warrior. He remembered meeting Boromir in his home, remembered seeing his grief and his sorrow. He fell because he was protecting the little ones. . .just as Ardeth Bey would have.

Haldir sighted another Uruk-hai and took him down coolly. They had much to answer for this night. And the Uruk-hai would pay. They would pay for Boromir, for Ardeth, for almost taking Haldir's own life. They would pay for the shadow creeping now across the land, for the poisoning of Haldir's home, for the young hobbits whom he met in Lorien. The Elven charge was just as deadly as both of the Rohirrim charges, and at the end of it, he heard Theoden-King crying in exaltation, "Victory! We have victory!"

This battle was over. Haldir turned to one of his Elves, saying softly, "Go. Retrieve the women and children. Tell them. . .tell them it is over. The day is ours." And then, Haldir headed downto join Mithrandir, Legolas, Aragorn and Ardeth. Mithrandir was smiling benevolently at Aragorn and Ardeth, obviously pleased with the pair. A young man at his side slid from his horse and enveloped Aragorn in a fierce embrace.

Haldir joined Ardeth, who also slid from his horse. The young man looked almost gray with pain and exhaustion, but there was joy and relief in his eyes. Haldir knew the feeling. With a smile, he slid his arm around Ardeth's waist, allowing the young chieftain to lean heavily against him. Ardeth smiled his thanks. Mithrandir embraced Aragorn first, then Legolas, then finally Ardeth, even as Haldir maintained his grip on his friend.

Then Mithrandir turned to Haldir, saying, "Mae govannen, Haldir. You have my thanks for looking after these rascals so well. And speaking of rascals, where is Gimli?" Legolas looked over his shoulder, toward the fortress, and amusement glittered in Mithrandir's eyes. The white wizard said, "Excellent. Haldir, would you be so kind as to aid Ardeth onto his horse, and we shall return to the fortress? I believe our wounded fellows could use some rest before we approach Isengard."

Haldir was more than happy to help Ardeth onto the horse, then swung up behind him. The raven-haired mortal uttered a soft groan, but relaxed against Haldir as the Elf cantered back toward the fortress. The two Hunters were moving faster, moving ahead of Haldir and Ardeth. As they reached the gates, women and children poured out. A blonde-haired young woman was leading the rush, looking this way and that for someone. . .a husband, a brother, a father?

Ardeth murmured, "That is the Lady Eowyn, niece of Theoden. Her brother was exiled before we arrived." There was a long pause, then he added, "She is quite attracted to Aragorn." Haldir's eyebrows raised at that. Aragorn and Arwen had been courting for nearly forty years, a long time for a mortal. . .even one as long-lived as Aragorn. The girl was pretty enough, he supposed, but she couldn't hold a candle to Lady Arwen.

Just as Ardeth observed, Lady Eowyn approached the exhausted Aragorn, embracing him fiercely. Haldir frowned a little as they passed, but said nothing. A half second after that, she caught sight of the young man who embraced Aragorn. . .the one who arrived with Mithrandir, and whom Haldir heard Theoden-King call 'Eomer.' A look of pure joy crossed her face, and she ran into his arms. The man swept her into a fierce embrace, spinning her around. She laughed and pounded on his armor almost playfully, and Ardeth murmured, sounding sleepy now, "I believe that is her brother."

"Hush now. You have done your share, and more than your share on this day. Now, Ardeth Bey. . .it is time for you to rest," Haldir murmured. Ardeth slumped against him once more, and Haldir found himself bearing more of the mortal's weight. Haldir merely adjusted his hold on the exhausted young warrior. Those under his command were already seeing to the wounded. Very well. Then Haldir would see to Ardeth. Not because he owed it to the chieftain. . .but because he wanted to do so.

* * *

Finding Eomer and his Rohirrim, those loyal to the king, was not so difficult as one would imagine. Especially for a white wizard. In addition to his new status, Gandalf had two other things going for him. . .firstly, Eomer and his eored were no small force. Secondly, he had Shadowfax as his steed, and though Shadowfax knew no master. . .he understood the urgency of their mission. 

Two and a half days to find them. . .two and a half days to return to Helm's Deep. Eomer, as to be expected, was wary. The young man had seen his cousin die, his uncle bewitched, and his younger sister caught in the web of Grima Wormtongue. Nor was he inclined to trust a wizard, when it was a wizard who ensnared the mind of his uncle. In some ways, he was a great deal like young Boromir.

Gandalf didn't allow himself to think about Boromir, or about Faramir. There would be time soon enough to deal with the White City. Instead, he focused solely on returning to Helm's Deep before it was too late for them all. Eomer was just as anxious. . .when he was exiled, he feared for his sister's safety, and rightfully so. Gandalf learned that Grima dogged the steps of the White Lady of Rohan.

On sunrise of the fifth day, as he promised Aragorn before leaving Edoras, Gandalf topped the ridge overlooking Helm's Deep. He found the defenders still fighting, with Theoden and Aragorn leading the charge. . .leading the invaders away from the women and children inside. Ardeth was down there, too. . .twas rather difficult to miss a raven-haired young man amidst theRohirrim.

There were, much to his surprise, elves as well. No doubt the doing of Lady Galadriel. The wizard said, half to himself, "Theoden-King stands alone." But it was only half to himself, because as he had since meeting up with the Rohirrim, Eomer rode at his side. The young prince of Rohan. . .for he was now next in line to the throne, with the death of his cousin Theodred. . .retreated briefly to see to his men. But now he drew up alongside Gandalf once more.

"Not alone," Eomer countered, then raised his voice to address his men, "Rohirrim! To the king!" With those words, the prince and the wizard led the charge down the hill toward the advancing Uruk-hai. Down, down, down they rode. The light blazing from Gandalf and from his staff blinded the Uruk-hai as they swept down and into the invaders. Gandalf was many things. . .warrior, wizard, and steward. He was not steward of a given country, but he was steward nonetheless.

Uruk-hai heads were removed from Uruk-hai bodies, swords were thrust into faces and into bodies, and the two forces met in the middle, killing every last abomination created by Saruman. With the combined forces, the early morning battle took but a half hour. And as Theoden cried out in victory, Aragorn approached Gandalf. The wizard smiled as his younger friend dismounted, looking pale and exhausted, sweat dripping into his eyes from lank locks of dark hair. He looked exhausted, had obviously been injured, but remained on his feet and remained fighting. Gandalf was more proud of him than he could have ever said.

Legolas and Ardeth were with him. . .the young warrior from the distant future looking to be in even worse shape than Aragorn, but he, too, was still fighting. Gandalf had no way of knowing if Ardeth made any difference in the battle, but if even one life was spared because of him, Gandalf felt the boy more than acquitted himself. The Elves. . .whom, he noted, were indeed from Lorien. Trust Galadriel. And, there were some from Rivendell. . .which was a surprise. Though a welcome one.

The Elves led by Haldir of Lorien were finishing off the Uruk-hai from behind. The blond Elf approached with a small contingent, explaining that the women and children were being led from the caves. With that detail explained, he turned his attention to helping Ardeth down from his horse. The gentleness told Gandalf there was a story here. . .and he would look forward to hearing it.

But that would come later. They had victory today, but at a terrible price. Men and boys and Elves were dead. Gandalf thought of something Ardeth told him while they journeyed to Edoras. . ._the price of victory is always dear. But the price of failure is even more dear_. Ardeth was not of this time, not really of this world. The wizard was more than a little relieved that the young man didn't have to make the ultimate sacrifice.

No. . .no, like Faramir, another beloved child of his heart. . .fate spared him for some other end. Aragorn nodded toward the fortress, his gray eyes filled with concern when he looked at the exhausted younger warrior. Haldir inclined his head, with a quick glance at Gandalf. The silent communication was noted by Gandalf. Aragorn would explain whatever needed to be explained. Haldir would see Ardeth back to the fortress, to rest. Legolas wasn't far behind the somewhat older Elven warrior, either. Aragorn murmured, "No doubt, Legolas wishes to verify with his own eyes that Gimli still lives."

Gandalf didn't answer. . .he was still watching Haldir and Ardeth with interest. The March Warden from Lorien helped Ardeth back onto the horse, then swung up behind him. Ardeth sagged gratefully against the Elf, his body relaxing. On the morrow, after the injured were tended, after the dead were buried, after the defenders rest. . .there would be a confrontation with Saruman. The renegade wizard brought Ardeth here, and Gandalf would return him from whence he came. . .after Gandalf knew the reason why.

All around him, women and children greeted their men, weeping with joy when they found them well, if exhausted and injured. Still others wept with grief, finding husbands, fathers, and sons dead. Eomer was happily reunited with first his sister, then with his uncle. Gandalf knew Theoden would speak later with Eomer, beg his forgiveness. Eomer would give it. It was already given. But Theoden wanted the words said.

"Are you well, Aragorn?" Gandalf asked as he cantered back toward the fortress with the heir of Isildur. The Ranger looked at him, exhaustion etched in every line of his face. Gandalf noted the dressings, and continued, "You look like you battled a wild boar, and lost that fight." Aragorn smiled, but said nothing. The battle rush was over, and now exhaustion was taking its place. Ahead of them, Haldir and Ardeth were greeted by an overjoyed Gimli.

"Ardeth saved many lives today, Gandalf. . .including Haldir's. Including my own. But Haldir. . . I never even considered it, when the rain began. Ardeth grew up in the desert. . .he is unaccustomed to rain and to mud. And it was that mischance that saved Haldir's life. I could see it all in my mind. If Ardeth was not here, Haldir would have died. You said, when we first found Ardeth, that you believed he was brought here to be a mirror in darkness for me," Aragorn observed.

"I do believe that. But I wish to hear the truth from Saruman. Make no mistake, Aragorn. This fight is not yet finished. Saruman is neutralized as a threat, but he is merely a pawn. Sauron is the great threat. And we have yet to face him," Gandalf replied. He paused, then smiled, adding, "Gimli has become quite attached to Ardeth. It surprises me. I remember how wary he was of Ardeth in the beginning."

Aragorn nodded, murmuring, "Ardeth proved himself to be a fine ally, risking his life many times. Though Gimli and Legolas have slowly become friends, I believe Gimli still misses Boromir." Gandalf looked at Aragorn, surprised by this statement. He never thought Boromir and Gimli were particularly close. Aragorn continued as he watched Gimli and Haldir fuss over the injured time-traveler, "In Balin's tomb, it was Boromir who comforted Gimli. After you. . .fell. . .it was Boromir who held onto Gimli. Losing him grieved us all, but I believe that Boromir was Gimli's first friend among the Fellowship."

Aragorn's voice thickened as he spoke of Gandalf's fall in Moria. The wizard said nothing. . .there was naught to say, after all. He realized when he met up with Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli. . .or, as they would become known later, the Three Hunters. . .he realized that Aragorn felt Boromir's death especially keenly. But he never considered that Gimli thought highly of Boromir. Perhaps that was his first mistake.

And yet, it did make sense. The pair were somewhat the odd beings out. The four hobbits had each other, and while Gandalf noticed that Merry and Pippin in particular became very fond of Boromir, the man from Gondor was nonetheless on the outside. Aragorn grew up among the Elves. . .he knew both Gandalf and Legolas for decades. Gimli had his own distrust of the Elves. Perhaps he should have realized that Gimli and Boromir had muchin common. And, as Aragorn reminded him, it was Boromir who comforted Gimli in Moria.

But these thoughts were for another day. There was work to be done yet, and Gandalf thought instead of Frodo and Sam. He hoped they would find their way to Mordor. The wizard grieved that such a price was demanded of Frodo. Like Galadriel, like Elrond, Gandalf recognized that the quest would likely cost Frodo his life. And that knowledge caused him no end of pain. But it was their best hope. . .Frodo was their best hope. There were none others. Not even Gandalf could trust himself with the One Ring. It was too powerful. But that didn't stop him from grieving for Frodo's burden.

* * *

In the Afterlife, a single figure watched the battle. The others were elsewhere. She could not bring herself to be angry, not when their work allowed the day to be won. As she gazed upon the celebrations with relief and some sadness, a new presence joined her. She sensed him, long before he spoke. . .but as she often did with him, she waited for him to speak first. And his question was quite predictable. 

"Will the quest succeed, my Lady?"

She smiled in spite of herself and turned to face her new companion. Seti was watching over Ardeth, as she herself was. Truly, Haldir would see to her child's wounds, but Seti was never satisfied, not unless he was near Ardeth. And Rameses. . .Rameses was still seeking forgiveness for the misdeeds of that particular lifetime. She replied, "There is a saying, Captain, in the time from whence my child comes. . ._'good wins in the very last play of the game_.' The quest will succeed. But there will be sacrifices demanded of all."

He nodded, looking troubled. She approached him, gently touching his cheek, and said, "Your part in this has been fulfilled. Why do you continue to torment yourself? You sacrificed your life to save another. There is nothing more noble than that.And in time, the Ring-bearer will come to learn that. In time, he will come to understand that he was indeed correct, when he said that you were not yourself."

Her companion sighed very softly, closing his eyes. Lady Ardath eyed him. He was a very handsome young man. In some ways, he reminded her of her own father. He didn't look like her father, nay. . . her father had dark brown hair, like her own, while this man had blond hair. But he carried himself in the same manner as her father. He had a build very similar to her father, though it was difficult to tell under the armor he wore during his life. After a moment, Boromir of Gondor replied, "I failed him. . . I failed them all."

"Were you not listening, young one, when Aragorn said otherwise? He told you that you fought bravely. . .and that you kept your honor. He spoke truly, Boromir. If that was not the case, you would have killed the Ringbearer. You failed no one. Not Frodo. Not Aragorn. Not your brother," Ardath answered. Her heart ached for him, and she longed for him to receive a second chance. He did so much good in his short life (never mind that he was twice her age at the time of his death).

He deserved a chance to rest, but she feared he would find no such rest. He longed for another chance, a chance for redemption, a chance to atone for almost falling to the Ring. Boromir answered softly, "I can only see Frodo's eyes, when I tried to take the Ring from him. I can see naught else, my Lady Ardath. Only fear. . .only disappointment. Only. . ." He shook his head, closing his eyes.

Ardath used that opportunity to take a few steps toward him. She took his hands and he opened his eyes, startled. She smiled at him tenderly, saying, "Even in this place, you find no rest. No peace. Oh, Boromir, have you not suffered enough? You fought the Ring, you fought despair. And you would not cease fighting, despite your grievous wounds. When will it be enough, sweet son of Gondor?"

She knew the answer. The concubine-princess could see it in his eyes. Ardath sighed and rocked up onto her toes, lightly kissing his forehead. When it was time for Ardeth to return home, a boon would be granted by the Elder gods to the Younger. It was their gift, for Ardeth's aid during the Battle of Helm's Deep. She had no idea if they discussed yet what that boon would be. But Ardath would speak with her gods, and she knew what shewould ask of them. Somehow, some way. . .she wanted Boromir of Gondor to find peace. . .and forgive himself for only being a human.

He wished only to protect his people, to save his country. He acted out of love. That should be rewarded, not punished. Ardeth slipped her arms around Boromir, drawing his head to rest against her shoulder. She gently caressed the back of his neck, whispering, "You will find your peace, sweet Boromir. I, Lady Ardath, intended bride of Rameses, will see to that. I will give you what your heart desires most."


	18. End Game

Author's Note: Well, after five years of a seriously nasty case of writer's block for this story, the characters finally decided to start speaking to me again. You'll note that this really doesn't follow the book or the movie for the confrontation with Saruman, though it has elements of both. I had notes about how I wanted this chapter to go, but when I got my laptop, I couldn't transfer my notes to them from the diskettes. Worse yet, the diskettes couldn't be read by our remaining desktop computer. So, I ended up writing this from scratch over the last three days. The epilogue, which involves Ardeth and Celia's reunion (along with the rest of the family), along with one other matter of business between the Egyptian contingent and the Valar. I hope to have that up by Monday or Tuesday, if my current rate of writing continues. Thanks to all for coming along with me on this ride (and for your un-ending patience)!

Chapter Seventeen

End Game

After a brief rest while brothers and sisters, children and parents, husbands and wives reunited, Gandalf reminded all that there was still the matter of Saruman. Theoden King, of course, insisted on accompanying him to confront the wizard and Theoden's own betrayer, the ever-so-aptly named Grima Wormtongue. Eomer, the older brother of Eowyn, would then accompany his uncle, and several of his men. The remnants of the Fellowship of the Ring, of course, would go as well, after all the heartache Saruman and his Uruk-hai had visited upon their fellows.

Eowyn would once again remain behind, but happily this time. Much as she desired to encounter Grima Wormtongue once more, without the grief and the helplessness to dog her steps as he did, her responsibility was to the people of Rohan. They would begin their return to Edoras once this small group returned to Helm's Deep. He would not be among that group. Of that, Ardeth was absolutely sure. He would not see Edoras again. He had no clue how it would occur, but he was going home to his family and to his people. To his Celia. To that end, he ensured that he bade farewell to Eowyn, who surprised him with a fierce hug and a quick kiss to his cheek.

Thus, twas an odd-looking group that set out from the fortress of Helm's Deep. . .a wizard, a Ranger, a king, the king's men, an Elf, a Dwarf, and a visitor from the far distant future. Ardeth was focused on staying in his saddle, and so he paid very little attention to the moving trees. After being batted around by them earlier, he really wasn't interested in their movements, so long as those movements were away from him. Ardeth once more told his inner O'Connell to be silent, only to be greeted once more by laughter. He really would have to talk to his friend about that inner O'Connell once he returned. . .or perhaps not. The other man would most likely laugh and tease him that it was only what he deserved. No. Perhaps not a good idea.

Soon enough, though, he no longer needed the distraction of keeping himself in the saddle, as they were rapidly approaching Isengard. Ardeth's heart sped up. Isengard, the stronghold of Saruman. Gandalf was of the opinion that Saruman intended to torture and break Ardeth, to remake him as a dark version of Aragorn. Was that the case, he didn't know. Nor did he care. Saruman took over his friend's body, and pulled Ardeth into a time, a world that wasn't his own. . .took him from those whom he loved most. He truly wasn't interested in the why of it. Let Gandalf worry to the former head of his order.

But before that happened. . . A familiar voice called out, "Welcome, my Lords, to Isengard, now under new management." Ardeth smiled broadly, recognizing the two little beings he had first met and protected from the orcs and Uruk-hai. He laughed aloud when Gandalf muttered, '_hobbits_,' as if that explained everything. . .and most likely, it did. He dismounted, along with Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli, pausing long enough to help the Dwarf down from the horse. The little speaker cried out, "Ardeth! Ardeth, is it really you?" Half a second after that, he was almost knocked over with a flying hug which Celia would have no doubt termed a glomp.

Ardeth laughed aloud and returned the embrace, even after a second flying body hit him. He was being hugged to death by a pair of hobbits, and there were much worse ways to die. The second body hugging him said, "So glad you're all right, Ardeth, so glad you're safe and that Strider and the others found you!" Ardeth said nothing, just held both small bodies. . .which weren't quite as small as he remembered.

The outlander released the pair, who next reunited with their other friends. For now, his attention was held by both Isengard and the Ents now hovering about. He vaguely heard Gimli scolding the two for the worry and fear, as well as the sassy responses from the hobbits. But he really wasn't paying attention. Gandalf murmured as he came to stand beside Ardeth, "We will get you home, Ardeth. . .you have no need to fear on that account." The young Egyptian flashed him a wry smile. 'Fear' wasn't quite what he was feeling, although he had to admit it was close. Gandalf squeezed his shoulder gently, then strode forward.

Eomer, the king's nephew, dismounted and came to stand at his side, saying softly, "Now begins the negotiations. I am of the opinion that Gandalf should simply wring the White Wizard's neck until he sends you home. He has caused everyone quite enough grief." Ardeth smiled at the younger man, and Eomer extended his hand, observing, "I am Eomer, and you are the mysterious traveler who was such a comfort to my sister until I could return to her and our uncle."

Ardeth's fingers closed over Eomer's forearm, in the manner of warriors, and replied, "It was my honor to do so. Your sister reminds me more than a little of my own youngest sister. . .and it is my pleasure to meet you, Eomer of the Riddermark. I am Ardeth Bey, chieftain of the Med-jai. Gandalf told you of my arrival in this world?" Eomer nodded, glancing briefly at the 'negotiations' playing out between Gandalf and Saruman. . .which now involved Saruman pleading for 'peace,' which evidently in Saruman-speak meant pretending to be a defenseless old man and, 'let me do what I want.' Theoden, he was pleased to see, was having none of that.

Aragorn spoke up, "You brought a young man from the distant future into our time, Saruman. Return him to his own time and own place, and we will discuss peace." This prompted yet another diatribe from the ancient one in the fortress, but Aragorn didn't budge. Nor did Gandalf. . .nor did Theoden. Aragorn called once more, "He was brought to this time against his will. More than that, you used his friend as a puppet to attack him, and thus, make him more vulnerable to your will."

"He did more than that," came the slightly-less familiar voice of Grima Wormtongue, "He attacked the Easterling's wife in her dreams." There was the rather distinct sound of flesh striking flesh, a cry of pain, and then a demand that Wormtongue be silent. But Ardeth ignored that. A cold rage was spreading through his body. His wife. This wizard had attacked his wife through her dreams. He remembered what he was told when Haldir and his troop of Elves arrived at Helm's Deep the previous evening (had it only been twelve hours earlier?).

Celia was under the protection of his Lady, his new Elven friend had told him. Now he understood, all too painfully well, _why_ she was under the protection of Lady Arwen, and thus, Arwen's grandmother, Lady Galadriel. Celia was still in the twenty-first century, and would have recognized that to go to the caves, the ruins, that Jonathan found would be too dangerous. He knew his wife, knew she would understand that. And so, she should have been beyond Saruman's reach. But she wasn't, and only Eomer's hand on his forearm kept him from moving against Saruman.

Besides, Saruman had moved away from the edge of the fortress, striking and kicking at Grima Wormtongue. There was no doubt in Ardeth's mind that the White Wizard would pay for that. . .but not now. No. First, he had to send Ardeth home. There could be no other action taken. He had to go home. Yes, Lady Galadriel and Lady Arwen were looking after Celia, but something Gandalf had said, just before they left Helm's Deep worried him. Gimli had expressed regret that Ardeth couldn't stay just a little longer. Gandalf answered almost sadly, _He will be needed in his own time. No, Gimli. Ardeth cannot stay any longer._

Something was coming, then, and Ardeth had to be home to deal with it. He didn't think it was the upcoming visit from the Legacy. . .that was another year away. Whatever made Gandalf say he had to go home now. . .it was something much more immediate. And really, he didn't care. This wasn't his home, this wasn't his time. He wanted to go home. He wanted to hold his children, to sleep with his wife in his arms, to tease his siblings (all of them) and be teased by them, to hear his mother fussing at him for his injuries. _He wanted to go home._

ABABABABABABABAB

_I want to go home_. In the end, that was all it took, those five simple words. Saruman had no way of knowing, of course, that Ardeth was the reincarnation of a Pharaoh, in addition to being chieftain of the Med-jai. As such, though Ardeth rarely thought of it in such terms, he was quite powerful in terms of magic. Perhaps not as powerful as Imhotep, but powerful in his own right. The gods of ancient Egypt and their ancestral counterparts in Middle-earth, the Valar, could have returned Ardeth to his own time. Saruman was, after all, as a child to them and was only able to bring Ardeth back in time because they allowed it. But they wished to give Ardeth the chance to choose. Had he desired to do so, he could have gone home immediately, or he could have chosen to remain. And, as a warrior, as a protector, he chose to fight at the side of Aragorn, who would become known as Elessar.

He fought at their side, assisted in the recovery of Aragorn, the defense of Helm's Deep, and saved the life of Haldir of the Golden Wood. It was decided, however, between the Valar and the ancient gods of Egypt, that the child of both worlds would never know that all it would have taken was those five simple words. _I want to go home_. He was likely to be more than a little put out with them, and while technically, there was nothing he could have done to them. . .none of them were willing to take that chance. Especially since the young Med-jai chieftain had powerful allies, even if he didn't know about them.

The only one who noticed at first was Legolas, whose Elven senses saw the winds starting to swirl around Ardeth and heard the whisperings of the trees and the grass. The Elven prince glanced over, noting the way Ardeth's face paled and the way he swayed. Eomer noticed as well and tightened his grasp on Ardeth, even as Legolas made his way over to the young Marshal and his otherworldly friend. Only seconds after Legolas reached them, Ardeth gave a low moan and slumped back against both men.

Between the two, the Man and the Elf, they lowered the swooning warrior to the ground. Gandalf looked around sharply, and beckoned both Aragorn and Gimli to go to their fellows' sides. They hastened to do just that. In some ways, it was a mirror of their initial meeting with Ardeth so many days earlier. And not a moment too soon. . .for as soon as Aragorn knelt beside his brother-warrior, the cloth of his robes began to grow transparent. Even so, it was Gimli who understood first and said gruffly, "Bless you, laddie, you've done more than enough. . .it's time for you to go home."

Merry and Pippin came over to join them, forming a semi-circle around the man who had protected him, even as injured as he was. Each young hobbit touched his hair or his cheek, saying good-bye in the only way they could. This leave-taking, at least, was bittersweet. They were losing their friend, but he was returning to his own home, and they could not be sad about that. His eyes were focused on a point far beyond any of them, and the only thing he said was, "Celia. I am coming home to you, my Celia." None of the remaining members of the Fellowship of the Ring gathered spoke as magic from the present world and the future swirled about Ardeth Bey to send him home. From atop Orthanc, a counter spell was being cast by the still-dangerous wizard, but it would not be enough. Not this time.

"This. . .is not. . ._over_!" Saruman howled to the skies, and the Walkers looked at each other. He wasn't speaking to them. . .that much was obvious. What wasn't so obvious was at whom that was directed, and what wasn't over? It no longer mattered, because the Walkers were being pushed away from their friend by a gentle, but firm invisible force. It wasn't the wind, it wasn't even a hand. It was. . .it was a wall that none could see and pushed them all back from Ardeth. A circle of flames formed around him, a circle of green flames. The fire leaped high, obscuring their vision of their friend. . .and when the fire died, as quickly as it appeared, Ardeth was gone. For him, at least, it _was_ over.

Only when Ardeth was gone, did Merry whisper, "Good-bye, Ardeth. We'll never forget you." He put his arm around Pippin, who leaned into him. Saruman's voice rang out once more from the tower as yet another spell was woven. However, none of the Walkers moved from the spot where they last saw their friend. Gandalf would deal with his former friend. . .this had nothing to do with them. At least, not until they heard Saruman's wild, deranged laughter ring out. Merry and Pippin both stepped closer to Aragorn, while Legolas and Gimli arranged themselves protectively around the two young Hobbits. It was anyone's guess what that laughter meant. . .but none of the options sounded especially pleasant.

The men of Rohan didn't seem especially at ease, either. Gandalf, however, only said in a quiet, calm voice, "Saruman. . .your staff is broken." As he spoke, there was a great crack. But it was what came next that stunned everyone. A raven-haired young woman appeared at the top of Orthanc with Saruman and Wormtongue. The Valar who had returned Ardeth Bey to his own time knew exactly whom this young woman was. . .Princess Anck-su-namun, concubine of Seti and his intended bride. She was also the beloved forever friend of Lady Ardath, now known as Celia Ferguson Bey. Thus, they also knew why she was there. . .and the Walkers would soon learn that for themselves.

"You attempted to strike at my sister through her dreams once more, wizard. I warned you what would happen if you ever attempted to harm her again," she hissed. The Fellowship shouldn't have been able to hear her. . .for that matter, they shouldn't have been able to understand her. But they could and they did. And though Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli knew this girl was no threat to their hobbit charges, they moved closer to Merry and Pippin nonetheless. They couldn't see what she did, exactly. Perhaps it wasn't truly important, as she was a creature of spirit, rather than flesh.

"Grima! Come back to us, you are still a man of Rohan! There is still a chance for forgiveness and redemption!" Theoden King repeated, seeing the hesitance in the traitor's movements. Even if the king didn't understand what was happening, he did know the mysterious girl was giving Grima the chance to leave before things became truly ugly. He had, after all, warned Ardeth about the attack against his wife in her dreams. . .and that, the Valar knew, was why she was giving him this chance.

"Go to them, Grima Wormtongue. If I can be forgiven for my sins, then there is still hope for you. Go," the girl said. There was only another moment of hesitation, and then Wormtongue fled the tower. This change, too, pleased the Valar. Now the Shire would be safe, and the Hobbits would keep their innocence. His fate was now ultimately up to those whom he betrayed. . .and himself. With Wormtongue safely out of the way, Anck-su-namun turned her attention to the wizard who had caused such pain to those dearest to her. She smiled at him coldly, reached out her hand, and tightened it into a fist. Gandalf joined the other Walkers and the Rohirrim, perhaps understanding that this was no longer his task. None of them saw the concubine's cruel smile, none save the Valar. For all that her heart had grown more tender, and her spirit lighter, in the years since she was reunited with her beloved friend, Anck-su-namun was still Anck-su-namun, and thus, rendered neither mercy nor compassion to those who hurt her beloved ones.

There was no blood. . .only a pained groan, then nothing, as Saruman's lifeless body collapsed to the ground. Anck-su-namun lowered her hand, turned to the Walkers and bowed, before vanishing entirely. In a few minutes, the Rohirrim would have Wormtongue. Or. . .soon would. Apparently, in a fit of pique, the traitor found a palantir and threw into the moat created by the Ents. This, at least, would remain the same. There was one more matter to be resolved, but that could wait. The Egyptian gods withdrew. This was for the Valar to handle.

ABABABABABABABAB

Both Anck and Imhotep sensed the moment Saruman's life was forfeit. Rick and Evy O'Connell were asleep on the divan. . .O'Connell lying across the piece of furniture, his head resting in his wife's lap. Celia had fallen asleep after a particularly exhausting meeting with the Elders, and Imhotep (who had been informed of the wizard's first attempt to manipulate Celia into traveling to the cave) stood guard over her body, while Anck watched over her spirit. The former lovers spoke not at all, choosing instead to focus their attention on their task. Miranda sat on the floor, listing against her mother's legs, while Andreas napped fitfully in Celia's arms.

A wince was Imhotep's first sign of trouble, but then Anck snarled, "He dares! Imhotep, awaken her now! I will deal with that meddlesome wizard once and for all!" For once, that was all the direction he needed. Imhotep shook his little queen awake, then lifted the sleeping Miranda into his arms, quietly thanking the gods the little girl allowed him to do so. Celia blinked a few times, and then smiled at him gratefully. By some miracle (because Imhotep really did not want to have anything to do with the O'Connells right now), the other American and his wife both remained asleep. Once Imhotep stepped back, still holding Miranda, Celia rose to her feet, whispering hoarsely, "He was in my dreams again. Jackass just doesn't know when to take a hint." Her American accent thickened as it always did when she first awakened or her emotions were up.

Imhotep's lips quirked into a half-smile as he followed Celia from the living room and upstairs into the nursery, replying, "More likely, he did not take Anck-su-namun seriously when she warned him what would happen if he targeted you again." As they reached the nursery and Celia settled Andreas into his bed, Anck appeared in the center of the room with a cold, triumphant expression. Imhotep told the little queen, perhaps unnecessarily, "It is done. . .he will never strike at you again."

"Oh, my news is far better than that, Imhotep. . .Ardeth is coming home. If you and O'Connell leave now, you will find him lying on the floor of the cave, unconscious," Anck replied, eyes bright with excitement and pleasure. If Celia was discomfited by this return to the cold diamond of a woman Anck had been after Ardath's murder, she didn't show it. _On the other hand_, Imhotep thought ruefully, _I eternally underestimated both Lady Ardath and Celia. Most often at my own peril._

"Then go wake Rick. You might want to take some of the Med-jai with you as well. I'm not sure how well they would react to you leaving with Rick, just the two of you. Did you at least leave his body intact, sister mine?" Celia asked. Anck pouted, but nodded and Celia struggled against a smile, continuing, "Oh, and Imhotep. . .please don't shove Rick off the sofa this time? I don't want the kids to wake up, and you _know_ he's not quiet when he gets a rude awakening like that."

Imhotep was feeling so relieved by the information that Ardeth was being returned to them (he never quite appreciated how much Ardeth smoothed things over for him and the Med-jai and O'Connell until now), he almost stuck his tongue out at her. However, he refrained and instead, bowed to her. He left the nursery, taking the steps two at a time, and fulfilled his little queen's request. Instead of pushing O'Connell from the divan, he flicked his finger against the other man's skull repeatedly. She only said not to push him, not that Imhotep couldn't annoy him awake.

When the American's bright blue eyes opened a bit sluggishly, Imhotep informed him, "Ardeth is coming home. Find your gear while I phone Nicodemus or one of the others. We shall return to that cave and bring him home." He had the pleasure of seeing O'Connell tumble off the divan even without Imhotep's help. . .even better, and without yelping. Hopefully, the thump of him hitting the ground wouldn't wake the children. He listened intently for a few minutes as O'Connell stumbled around, but the only person who seemed to rouse was Nefertiri reborn. In a much gentler voice, he told the still-sleepy Englishwoman, "Ardeth is coming home. Terumun and I are going back to the cave to get him. You and Anck-su-namun will look after Celia. The wizard again attempted his foul magic, but paid the price."

"Anck-su-namun killed him, then? Good. It's the least he deserves after what he did to Ardeth and what he tried to do to Celia," she retorted. Imhotep had no time to speak further, because O'Connell returned with his gear. The former high priest bowed to the reincarnated princess and joined his chief source of annoyance. As the two men headed out, Evelyn O'Connell added, "And I'll call Nicodemus. You just bring Ardeth home!"

And so they did. Imhotep and Rick O'Connell, along with a small group of Med-jai, rode out to the cave where Ardeth Bey had been kidnapped from his family. The Med-jai, led by Nicodemus, rode their horses, while the long-time enemies shared the largest dune buggy available (an addition suggested by the previous Andreas Bey, and actually implemented by his younger brother). They had no way of telling how badly Ardeth was injured. If his injuries were severe, they could transport him in the dune buggy back to Tiri. It wouldn't be comfortable, but it was an option.

For his own part, Imhotep wasn't entirely sure what to expect once they reached the ruins. However, the first thing he noted was. . .there were no longer ruins. Just scattered rocks and boulders. The second thing he noticed as a blob of black lying near one of those boulders. O'Connell saw it at the same time he did, slammed on the brakes (almost overturning the buggy in the process), put the buggy in park, then leaped out of the buggy and ran toward the figure, shouting hoarsely, "ARDETH!"

Imhotep was only a few seconds behind him, grabbing a canteen between the seats before he followed O'Connell to the figure, now moving sluggishly. O'Connell had fallen to his knees beside Ardeth and pulled the half-conscious chieftain into his arms. As Imhotep joined the two men, O'Connell was murmuring, "It's all right, you're safe now. Shhh. It's me, it's Rick, you're safe now. Oh, God, buddy, I wasn't sure if we would ever see you again. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I let that jackass take control of me, so sorry I let him hurt you." Imhotep rolled his eyes, but knelt beside the pair. He smiled reassuringly at Ardeth and offered him the water. The chieftain made several valiant efforts to take the canteen, but his limbs weren't working quite yet.

"Let us take care of you, old friend," Imhotep said, unscrewing the top from the canteen, then gently placing it against Ardeth's lips and allowing a few drops to trickle down his throat. He paused, letting Ardeth swallow those few drops, then eased the canteen back up. Each time, Ardeth was able to take a little more water, and Imhotep told him, "You can have more water in a few minutes, I need to look you over for injuries, and then we shall take you home to Celia and your children." Ardeth smiled weakly and Imhotep checked him over, muttering under his breath.

"How is he?" O'Connell asked as Ardeth relaxed against him. Imhotep shook his head, warning the other man to keep his mouth shut. Why was it so impossible for Ardeth to stay out of trouble? He found a wound to his abdomen, which had been treated, but was still healing. There was another wound, this time to his arm. The boy looked like he had been through a war. . .and Imhotep had a bad feeling that was exactly the case. O'Connell asked impatiently, worry evident for all that, "Well, will he live, at least long enough for us to get him to medical attention."

"Aywa. I am all right, Rick. I am truly home? I am not dreaming?" Ardeth asked. O'Connell hugged him from behind, burying his face in his shoulder, and Ardeth mumbled, "I am dreaming. O'Connell does not hug." That made both O'Connell and Imhotep laugh, as well as the Med-jai gathered around them. He wanted to go home to his wife and children, and it was time, long past time, to do just that. Between the two of them, Imhotep and O'Connell lifted Ardeth to his feet, then each draped one of his arms over their shoulders, helping him to the dune buggy. He was exhausted, injured multiple times, and fighting off infections even now, but he was home. Ardeth Bey was finally home.

To be concluded!


	19. Epilogue: Afterward and the Afterlife

Author's Note: And here we end this story. . .if I'm VERY lucky, the series will continue, but I'm not about to make promises if I'm not sure I can keep them. I believe I mentioned earlier that I would reveal who Gandalf's reincarnation was in the modern era. Unfortunately, I lost that with my notes when I switched to my laptop, so we'll say for the sake of everyone's sanity that he's still alive in Valinor. I do hope everyone has enjoyed the ride. . .thank you for coming along with me!

Epilogue

Afterward and the Afterlife

At last. At long last, her child was home where he belonged. Even now, the high priest and Terumun's reincarnation were gently bundling him into the vehicle that would carry him home, where his wife would care for him and his family would rejoice. Lady Ardath, mother of the modern Med-jai nation and beloved of Rameses, sighed quietly, leaning back in her mate's arms. Rameses murmured, _You are pleased with yourself, my flower, and you have every right to be. Ardeth is safely home, though I have no wish to be one of the Valar when he finally realizes all he ever needed to go home was to simply say so. _Ardath snorted. . .tiyu, she wasn't best pleased with them for that, either.

However, rather than waste her time and energy on the Elder Gods and their games with the hearts and minds and lives of mortals, she would focus her concern and attention on something that the White Wizard said. . .Gandalf, not the one who threatened her reincarnation and the one whose brain turned into soup, thanks to Anck-su-namun. No, Gandalf had stated that Ardeth would be necessary here in the days and weeks again. Ardeth whispered, seeking shelter from the chill within the warmth of Rameses' embrace, _Something is coming, my love, something that will test our child as never before._

_My dearest Ardath, the boy has been tested so many times before, I scarcely think this will be any different, whatever will come! _Rameses retorted. However, Ardath was not certain. She had no idea what was coming, only that it chilled her very soul. And it was coming closer with each passing hour, a trial that would tax the Med-jai in a way they hadn't been challenged since the founding of Tiri, three thousand years earlier. Rameses murmured, _You are truly frightened, my love. . .never before have I seen you this frightened. What is it that you sense?_

_I do not know, Rameses, and that is what frightens me most of all. I could tell what Khaldun would do. . .but this is evil as I've never sensed before, an unworldly evil¹. The only thing of which I am certain is that Ardeth and Celia will succeed, if they but hold to each other, as they have always done. Perhaps that is a simple solution, but what I sense coming will be anything but simple, _Ardath answered. She wished she had a better way of explaining to her mate about what she could sense. Rameses simply held her tightly, and she relaxed a little more into his embrace.

Perhaps sensing that no words could reassure her, he changed the subject, pointing out,_ The Elder Gods will wish to reward our child for what he did in Middle-earth. As we are Ardeth's ancestors, it is likely they will ask our suggestions. Do you have any ideas for that, my dearest? _She turned in his arms slightly, just enough to smile up at him, and Rameses rolled his eyes, adding_, __**Of course**__ you do, how silly of me to ask such a foolish question. Very well, my love, stagger me with your usual brilliance._

_There is one amongst us who committed a terrible deed, while under the influence of an unearthly object. Though he has paid dearly, and redeemed himself in the eyes of his former companions, he has not atoned enough in his own eyes, even with his death. I will ask the Elder Gods for that life, so that he will be able to help our children in the days and weeks ahead, _Ardath replied, her smile growing almost flirtatious. Rameses stared at her in absolute shock, before bursting into laughter_._

_Oh, my dearest darling Ardath. . .I was away from you for too many years! _He chortled and Ardath merely smiled at him sweetly. Rameses continued to chuckle, finally saying,_ So, you will ask for the life of Boromir of Gondor, will you? My darling one, he has spent his entirely life in Gondor, and to a lesser degree, Rohan. . .he will be as uncomfortable in Egypt as Ardeth was in England. So, how will he be of any use to our child, if he is constantly collapsing from the heat?_

Ardath, however, had thought that far ahead and responded_, He will acclimate, Rameses. I was often sick as a very small child, while my body acclimated to the difference between Ierne and Egypt. Oh yes, he is much older, but even so, he will acclimate. While he does, our child and Celia, and the other Med-jai will look after him. And once he is strong enough, he will lend his sword arm to their causes. He will stand at their side, out of gratitude at first, and then out of affection. He is fiercely loyal, Rameses, this you have seen for yourself._

She was silent for several moments as the strange little caravan reached Tiri, and the Med-jai flooded out to meet Imhotep, O'Connell, Ardeth, and the others. Ardeth was carried to his home with all the tenderness one would show to a small, injured child, where his wife proceeded to wipe away her tears and send word to her mother-in-law and sisters-in-law, before setting to work herself. Her dark hair was pulled back into a messy bun, and she began ordering around Imhotep, O'Connell, and anyone else who was awake enough to take orders. It made Ardath smile to see her reincarnation behaving as a proper queen should. She would weep later, once the others were gone. For now, she would tend to her husband, for Ardeth's recovery was not yet complete.

_I have seen this_, Rameses admitted, _as fiercely loyal as you are yourself. Very well, my queen. I will bow to your greater wisdom_. Ardath rolled her eyes at him, and he continued, _But for now, I have other things I would prefer to bow to. Ardeth is in the very best of hands, they will have no need of us for some time, so. . ._ He scooped her into his arms, drawing a half-hearted, protesting giggle from her as he carried her back to their chambers. However, he was right. For now, there was nothing more they could do for the children, or even Boromir. They had now to themselves…twas best to enjoy it.

And in the meantime, there were others who could look after the children, in the event something went terribly wrong unexpectedly. Anck would be happy to look after them, even when they would prefer she didn't.

ABABABABABABABAB

When next Ardeth Bey opened his eyes, he was lying between cool sheets, a soft pillow under his head, and attired only in a pair of leggings. He blinked the grit out of his eyes, and distantly noted that he had been asleep/unconscious for some time. No, asleep. Definitely asleep. He had memories, however vague, of O'Connell and Imhotep carrying him together and settling him in a car. . .or something. . .and the sensation of Celia's fingers against his face and hair. His mouth was almost painfully dry, and even before he had the chance to speak, Celia was there again, with a small glass of water in her hand. And there was even a straw for him. Odd, how something as simple as a straw could seem so miraculous.

Almost as miraculous as seeing his wife's smile. . .not in his memory, but in the flesh. He sipped at the water, savoring it on his dry tongue and even drier lips. Ardeth drew back from the straw, and taking that for the signal it was, Celia took away the glass, sitting it beside Ardeth's bed. Their bedroom. Yes, they were in their bedroom. Where else they might have been, he didn't know. Licking his lips, he whispered hoarsely, "I know your face," and reached up to touch that most beloved face. Celia covered his hand with her own, smiling down at him.

"How are you feeling? We bandaged your wounds and cleaned you up as much as possible, but you've been asleep for several days," she replied softly. His shock must have been obvious on his face, for Celia laughed quietly, "Given what you went through, Ardeth, it's really not surprising! Based on what Anck told me when Imhotep and Rick brought you back, just the return voyage was exhausting enough. . .that's not taking into account your injuries." Well, yes, he supposed so. . .he had slept while he was in Middle-earth, but he would have to admit, that wasn't a particularly restful sleep.

"I have felt better. . .but only when I was at full strength. How are the children. . .my mother, my sisters? What has been happening while I was away?" Ardeth asked. It was, he thought ruefully, a measure of just how strange their ordinary was, that neither of them even batted an eye at Ardeth's voyage to and from the far-distant past. They had seen some strange things, just in the two years of their marriage, so he supposed that Ardeth being kidnapped by an evil wizard was hardly the strangest thing. And speaking of said evil wizard. . .Saruman. Ardeth looked up at his wife anxiously, grasping her hand, and asked, "Saruman! What of Saruman? Has he threatened you again?"

_That one will never threaten her, or anyone else, ever again_, Anck-su-namun replied, appearing beside Celia. She inspected her fingernails, as if looking for blood. If there was anything Ardeth knew about the concubine, it was that she took threats to Celia extremely seriously. . .and it was highly doubtful that she dealt with those threats with her hands. While she was capable of attaining a solid form, she preferred to use that energy when Celia needed the comfort, and Ardeth was unavailable to provide it. She smiled sweetly, adding, _He will never hurt anyone again. Not you, not Celia, and not your charming predecessors._

"Then you have my thanks, Anck-su-namun, as well as my thanks for looking after Celia while I was gone. Tell me, what have I missed. . .is everyone all right?"Ardeth asked, since he had been distracted by his concerns about Saruman. Celia nodded and sat on the bed beside him. Now that she was closer, he could see how tired she looked as well. Knowing his wife, she probably had been busy taking care of him and their children, ensuring that no one woke him up, continuing with her duties, and in general, not taking proper care of herself. Not that he had any room to talk. . .indeed, she was much better at taking herself and him than he was at taking care of just himself.

"Everyone is fine. Once we got you cleaned, bandaged, and put to bed, Miranda took one side of your bed, Andreas took the other, and I hadn't the heart to move them until they were both sound asleep. Your mother has been here several times, checking on you and spelling me so I could get something to eat, or deal with the Elders, as have your sisters, their husbands, and their kids. Rick and Evy have been in and out a number of times with Alex and Nef. And of course, Anck hasn't left either of us. One of these days, you need me how to do that," Celia teased. Ardeth's lips quirked as the concubine mimed sticking her tongue out at the reincarnation of her best friend. The gesture had the bonus of making Celia laugh with delight.

_I shall not, for you must be dead in order to accomplish this. . .and if I have anything to say about it, you will live to be an old lady, with your children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren around you. Ardeth, I am most pleased to see you awake and alert. I must speak with Seti and Rameses. . .well, I must speak with Seti. I will wait to speak with Rameses until after he and Ardath have completed their revels together. . .and see if there is aught more to do. Celia. . .do not wear him out, and are you not supposed to call your brother when Ardeth awakes?_ Anck asked.

"Oooh, thanks for reminding me, Anck. Hang on, let me figure out what the time difference is between Egypt and New York, especially since I think he's having breakfast this morning at Windows on the World. I know, after all this time, I should have that worked out, but 'time' really doesn't have a meaning in the Legacy," Celia replied. Ardeth, who had a better understanding of the time difference because of the years he spent corresponding with the American Med-jai, was on the point of answering his wife, until he realized that he had no idea what time it was.

_It is seventeen fifteen, sister, which means it is eight fifteen am in New Yo_r_k_, Anck chimed in. This was growing worrisome. A concubine from three thousand years ago was growing better at telling time than the people who lived in the current age? Anck looked embarrassed, shrugging as she said, _Jason is Celia's brother. . .so I look after him, just as I look after Celia and you, and your family. Celia, you returned your cellular phone to the drawer where you usually keep it._ Celia found it and waved her thanks to Anck, dialing the phone. Of course. She had Jason on speed dial.

It occurred to Ardeth that he really needed to confirm the date. By his reckoning, he had been in Middle-earth for well over a week, and he had been asleep for several days after his return. As his wife began chatting happily with her younger brother, and Ardeth felt his eyes growing heavy once more, he decided it could wait until the next time he woke up. It really wasn't important, was it? No. . .no, what was truly important was he was home. He had aided the Free People of Middle-earth against their foes. Now, he could rest. Whatever trouble was to come, and he knew trouble would come, he and Celia would face it together, as ever.

Finis

¹In the event that the muses go on another extended silence, the unworldly evil that Lady Ardath is sensing is the Gou'ald. . .and Apocalypse, the same Apocalypse faced by the X-Men. Didn't want to leave you hanging too terribly much.


End file.
